No Coward Soul is Mine
by Clare Mansfield
Summary: Marriages are made, children are born, vows are broken. The Dark Lord's power is growing, the Order are determined to fight but it seems that fates will be decided on the embittered love of one man. UPDATED!
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: I had, for a long time, been toying with the idea of a Godric's Hollow story. But, on reading DH, I was unsure of what I could do, where I could take the narrative that would be interesting to read and write. This is my attempt to fill in those gaps, to string all those moments that J.K.Rowling has so beautifully dropped into her stories together. I hope that you enjoy!_

_Thank you to my beta Megan who, undoubtedly, the biggest thanks of the them all goes to! Thank you to Rosie who was willing to come out beta retirement to read what I'd written. _

**One wet and blustery night Severus Snape overhears something in the Hog's Head that will change the course of wizarding history forever. Marriages are made, children are born, vows are broken yet little does Snape know how his actions on that fateful night will affect the life of one woman and her child. The Dark Lord's power is growing, the Order are determined to fight but it seems that fates will be decided on the enbittered love of one man. **

**Chartering the events from the prophecy to the death of the Potters. This shall be a dual perspective piece, focusing on Snape and Lily. This is not a love story.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the characters. I merely borrow them. No need to sue.**

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A tall man with a sallow complexion and malevolent black eyes pushed open the door to the tavern, narrowly avoiding crashing into a twittering witch with roaming mad eyes who was trying to exit as he had walked in. He scowled at her as she mumbled a cantankerous apology before he made his way over to the sawdust-strewn bar.

The barman of the Hog's Head moved reluctantly over to serve, his wiry grey beard sweeping against his chest as he asked gruffly, "Drink?"

"Firewhiskey," was Snape's smooth response as he pushed the money across the bar. The barman barely counted it as he slid it towards him, scooping the coins into his hand a long with a good deal of sawdust before pocketing the money and disappearing beneath the bar. A persistent butting against Snape's leg caused him to look down and to cruelly kick away the goat that was trying to get his attention. The barman reappeared just in time to see the goat give a disgruntled bleat before scurrying away across the filthy floor. He set the grimy glass down in front of Snape.

"I'd rather you didn't make a habit of kicking my pets," the barman grunted, his brilliant blue eyes regarding Snape fiercely. Snape picked up the glass and began to move away from the bar. The barman jabbed a dirty finger in Snape's direction before saying, "I take things like that personally."

Snape debated saying something but, deciding that it was not worth effort, he remained silent as he withdrew to the shadowy corner. His eyes remained fixed on the barman until he disappeared out the back. He lifted the glass to his nostrils and inhaled the pungent alcoholic scent, but he would not drink it.

The Dark Lord would be disappointed that he had failed. He had thought it highly unlikely, even when charged with the task to acquire a position at Hogwarts, that Dumbledore would be daft enough to accept him. Of course, there had been no room for questions. The Dark Lord had been adamant: what better way to get close the old man?

"You are known to him, Severus," he had hissed. "He knows you of old. Severus Snape: trusted student, talented potions-maker…"

"But I fear," Snape had reluctantly interrupted causing Voldemort to fix his gaze upon him. "I fear that he may suspect…"

"Your fears and your suspicions are of no concern to me. All that concerns me now is getting close to Albus Dumbledore."

It hadn't worked, Snape thought to himself. Dumbledore was no fool. When he had gone to him that afternoon in pursuit of employment Dumbledore had known at once that he could not be trusted. Snape had known, even before he had taken the seat offered to him on the other side of the desk, that the Dark Lord's plan would fail.

"To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure, Severus?" Dumbledore had said coolly, genuinely, as he stared into the face of his old pupil.

"I have heard," Snape had begun carefully, "that there will soon be an opening in your staff. I hear that Professor Slughorn is to retire."

"May I ask where you have heard this?" Dumbledore asked.

"We are still in contact," had been Snape's short reply.

Dumbledore exhaled a resounding "Ah" before sinking back in his chair slightly and saying, "Of course. Horace does like to keep in touch with his more discerning pupils." He had paused, his piercing eyes attempting to gain Snape's attention, but Snape knew better. "So, now you would like to take up where he shall leave off?"

Snape shifted rather uncomfortably in his seat before saying, "I was, in fact, thinking of the Defence Against the Dark Arts position."

A wry smile twisted Dumbledore's lips as though this was response was unexpected yet amusing. It gave Snape the distinct impression that Dumbledore was jeering at him.

"I fail to see the joke in that," Snape articulated coldly.

"Forgive me," Dumbledore's smile did not disappear. "You simply took me off-guard with your request. I only assumed that due to your unquestionable talent at potions that it would naturally be in that subject your interests lie."

Snape's top lip twitched. "Things have changed. Interests change." As he had said this Dumbledore had finally managed to catch Snape's eyes and he felt the familiar signs of someone attempting to read his mind. But Snape was too well practiced and as soon as he felt his thoughts loosening, somehow being drawn from him by Dumbledore's intense gaze, he shut off his mind.

"Undoubtedly," Dumbledore replied, perhaps suspecting although not saying, as he rose to his feet. The meeting was over. "I am sorry to say that I don't think there is a position that would suit you." Snape was on his feet and Dumbledore had extended his hand across the desk, "But if things change again, Severus, then I may be more than happy to reconsider my decision."

Snape sneered to himself and looked down at the ring-marked table. It hardly seemed to matter anyway. Regardless of whether or not Dumbledore suspected Snape's involvement with the Death Eaters nothing could prevent the inevitable. The Dark Lord's plan to place Snape at Hogwarts may have failed yet there would be other plans, more effective plans, of that Snape was certain. It was no longer necessary to skulk in the shadows, to move cautiously, tentatively, so as to not attract the attention of the Ministry. And soon the time would come to take action; irrevocable action that would determine the fate of many. And he was a part of it, an integral part; he, Severus Snape, would help to forge the destiny of the wizarding world.

The door to the Hog's Head opened and, almost instinctively, Snape drew away from the light and, reaching his hand inside his robes, closed his hand about his wand.

"Aberforth," the voice called from the doorway and Snape tried to merge into his surroundings as the wiry-bearded barman reappeared and swiftly covered the distance between the bar and the door. The man who had just entered the tavern removed his wet travelling robes, revealing that he was none other than Albus Dumbledore. "Is Sybill well?"

The barman gave a derisive snort before taking Dumbledore's robes from him. "Bloody kook! Can't see why you'd even consider her. Already made her way through most of the sherry…"

Snape watched as Dumbledore shook his head and said with a small smile, "I wouldn't think you'd mind that as long as she was good for the money."

The barman seemed to resent this comment and, after hanging the robes on the pegs by the door, said brusquely, "It's not my place to question the actions of the esteemed headmaster of Hogwarts." He turned away from Dumbledore, who sadly shook his head before ascending to the floors above.

Snape hesitated: if he could slip unseen up the stairs and find out what Dumbledore was up to then surely this would be a way to soften the blow when the time came to tell the Dark Lord he had failed. Snape was certain that, if he could find out something valuable, then it would make some difference. Leaving his glass of Firewhiskey untouched on the table, he waited for the barman to disappear once again before moving silently across the room to climb the stairs.

It was difficult to climb the ramshackle staircase without being heard but Snape managed, after creeping at a snail's pace, to finally reach the first floor landing. A thin beam of light fell from a chink in a door that had not been fully closed, beyond which he could hear voices: the resounding voice of Dumbledore and another, more ethereal voice.

"But my dear Professor Dumbledore…" the ethereal voice pleaded.

Snape positioned himself so that he had a good view of what was happening in the room and he watched as a spindly woman, draped in shawls, with large, magnified eyes took a step closer to where Dumbledore was sat before the fire. "Is there nothing I may say…nothing more I can do to convince you of the importance of instructing your pupils in the noble art of Divination?"

Dumbledore sighed and, after passing a weary hand over his face, said, "I fear not, Sybill. I am sorry if you feel I have wasted your time but I do not think that you will be suitable for the position."

Nothing significant Snape thought with disappointment: another teaching position that was yet to be filled at Hogwarts. He could not see how that would be of any use. But before he turned away to return downstairs a sharp movement in the room caused Snape to remain, watching as the woman suddenly lurched forward, knocking over the empty sherry bottles on the table before Dumbledore.

"Sybill?" Dumbledore automatically rose to his feet, placing two firm hands on each of the woman's shoulders, staring directly into her glazed eyes. "Sybill? Can you hear me?"

Snape watched as the woman's head lolled backwards and a voice, so unlike the misty, sing-song tones of before, said hoarsely, "The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…" There was a creak at the bottom of the staircase, Snape was almost certain. But he had no time to turn. It was too important that he listened. "…born to those who have thrice defied him…" Another creak and, without removing his gaze from the chink in the doorway, Snape's hand found his wand. "…born as the seventh month dies…"

He did not have the time to withdraw his weapon. Two heavy hands came down sharply on his shoulders and he was pulled roughly round by the barman, whose disgruntled face was only inches from his as he snapped, "What are you doing creeping around?"

"I…I…" Snape relinquished his grasp on his wand and, throwing up his hands to protest his innocence, continued, "…must have come up the wrong way…"

"You're bleeding right you did! Albus!" Before Snape had a chance to collect his thoughts the barman had flung open the door and had pulled Snape with him into the room as he said, "Albus! Found this slimy fellow skulking around in the corridors."

Dumbledore's blue eyes regarded Snape for a moment although he still seemed distracted by what the slender woman with the thick spectacles had just said. His eyes did not fix on Snape's as Snape had automatically assumed that they would and he turned back to the woman, who was steadying herself, teetering as though drunk, by the table before saying with a dismissive wave of his hand, "This is your place of authority, not mine. Do what you will."

The barman dragged Snape back out of the room and kicked the door closed behind him. The whole building seemed to shudder and Snape writhed futilely as he was unceremoniously pulled down the stairs and, with an almighty heave, pushed out the front door.

"Don't think you can come in here to kick my goats and listen at keyholes!" were the barman's last words to Snape before slamming the door shut. Snape sat panting on the ground for a moment, feeling the rain that was falling, pelting his face and soaking his clothes. Eventually he pulled himself to his feet and set off down the deserted, darkened street of Hogsmeade before disappearing into the night with a swollen crack.

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"It's only Snape!" Amycus Carrow called, lowering his wand. His two companions, his sister Alecto and Walden Macnair, who had been approaching hung back and Amycus, pocketing his wand, turned around and walked with Snape as far as the door. "So, what news?" he asked.

Snape cast a look of thinly-veiled disgust at Amycus before articulating slowly, "What I have learnt is for the Dark Lord alone to hear…"

Amycus sneered and dropped back, allowing Snape to enter the house unaccompanied as he returned to his duty as sentry. The house, which had, until a week ago, been the residence of a wealthy Muggle doctor and his family, was dark. The hallway, which had seen most of the damage when the Death Eaters had blasted their way through the front door, was full of smashed furniture. Great pieces of plaster had fallen from the ceiling and the wallpaper now drooped from the walls. As he reached the door of the living room Snape slowed as the man with the silvery blonde hair turned to greet him. Loud voices emanated from the room beyond.

"What is it?" Snape asked Lucius Malfoy. "What's happened?"

"Wilkes is dead," Malfoy muttered stiffly. Snape could not conceal his surprise as Malfoy continued to explain, "Killed by Aurors."

"Who?" Snape queried, his skin prickling uncomfortably as he heard a hissing voice on the other side of the door say, "Your apologies mean nothing to me. There is no room for mistakes."

"We do not know yet," Malfoy answered, his words obscured by the cry of "_Crucio!" _from within and the unworldly shrieks of pain from whoever it was that had failed. Eventually the shrieking stopped, replaced by stifled sobs, and Malfoy turned to Snape and said callously, "I hope you have something more successful to report."

Snape grimaced and the door to the living room opened. He took a step inside and saw the crumpled form of Augustus Rookwood lying huddled on the floor. Voldemort was standing, one hand resting on the fireplace, looking down at the sobbing man with complete distain. He did not register Snape's entrance and he turned to the dark haired, flaming-eyed woman at his right and commanded, "Get rid of him, Bella."

Bellatrix purred a grovelling thank you as though he had just awarded her a prize and Snape watched as she grabbed Rookwood by the shoulders and forcibly ejected him from the room. Only then did Voldemort acknowledge Snape as he turned his bloody eyes to him and said, "Ah, Severus. As you can see, things are not going according to plan."

"M…my Lord…" Snape stammered, summoning a false confidence as he drew closer to the man by the fireplace. But Voldemort stopped him from advancing any further by raising a hand and his eyes held Snape's for only a moment before he said, "But I can see that you have failed me too, Severus. That is…" Snape watched as Voldemort's snakelike fingers caressed the wand he was holding before finishing, "…unfortunate."

"If you will permit me, my Lord…" Snape had begun speaking. Voldemort's mouth twitched. "I confess that I was unable to convince Dumbledore to give me the position at Hogwarts, but I heard something else this evening which I think will be of use." Voldemort was listening. "There was a woman, a Seer, who had applied for the position of Divination teacher. Dumbledore came to see her in the Hog's Head. I listened, my Lord, to see if I could learn anything useful. The woman…she made a prophecy…"

"A prophecy?" Voldemort exhaled, vaguely perplexed.

"Yes, my Lord. A prophecy that foretold the birth of a child…a child that will have the power to…" But Snape need not finish the sentence. He could feel his mind loosening, the mistiness of recollection seemed all at once to be clarified as Voldemort's eyes bored into his.

"The power to vanquish _me_?" Voldemort was incredulous, amused. He broke eye contact and sunk down into the chair by the fire. Snape could not take his eyes from his face. ""…born to those who have thrice defied him…" Voldemort repeated the words that Snape had overheard only an hour before "…born as the seventh month dies…You have done well, Severus."

There was a long silence before Snape found the courage to ask, "This will be of use to you, my Lord?"

"Oh, yes. Yes…" Voldemort hissed, his mouth twisting into an odd, contorted smile. "What you have just told me is of huge significance."

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_Please let me know what you think by reviewing. Review really do matter! xxx_


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Thank you to those of you who have reviewed. I'm glad that most of you like what I've done with this so far._

_Thank you to my beta Megan (although this chapter was a little bit too optimisitc for her tastes! lol!), Rosie and SomethingBorrowed._

_Disclaimer: I am only the puppet master. No need to sue._

**Three months earlier. We take up our story from Lily's perspective.**

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"Careful! Careful!" the red-haired witch warned, rushing forwards to come to the aid of two wizards who were levitating a large chest of drawers up a narrow staircase. Reaching the bottom of the stairs she winced, watching as the chest of drawers slipped from their control, plummeting perilously downwards before a man with ruffled black hair and glasses rushed out of the room to her right, whipping out his wand, and gained control of the furniture.

"Honestly, we leave you two alone for five minutes…" Lily teased, watching as James helped manoeuvre the drawers around a corner.

"It's not my fault if Moony's sense of special awareness is lacking." Sirius' retort would have been all the more witty if he hadn't slipped, stumbling backwards, before awkwardly righting himself.

James laughed. "Nice save, Padfoot."

Sirius lurched forward, as though contemplating reacting with his wand, but Remus pacified patronisingly, "Now, now children. Let's just get this upstairs and then you can fight all you like."

With that Sirius, James and Remus concentrated long enough for the time it took to get the furniture up the stairs, and, after having some difficulty with getting it through the door, Lily had performed a swift charm that made it squeeze through the frame with a loud pop!

"If you'd only let us shrink it," Sirius complained as they moved it up against the back wall. James appeared as if he were ready to nod in agreement.

"With your hap-hazard spells? Not likely!" Lily turned her eyes on her husband, who appeared on the verge of laughter, and scolded, "Don't you laugh! That chest was a wedding present. How do you think I'd feel if it were damaged?"

James' laughter disappeared instantly and Lily, pleased with her victory, turned to Remus and, slipping her arm through his, guided him out of the room.

"They're never going to grow up, are they?" Lily joked.

Remus laughed and, with a sigh, slowly shook his head. "I don't think there's much chance of that with Sirius…but James," he paused pointedly, his amber eyes fixed keenly on her face. He smiled before continuing, "I think there might still be hope. What with you around…"

Lily tried to stop the blush from spreading as she and Remus cleared away the empty cardboard boxes and old pages from the _Daily Prophet_ that they had used to pack. But it was too late, he had already seen it, and she pushed her hair behind her ears before saying, "I wouldn't want to change him."

That evening, the first night in their new home in Godric's Hollow, Lily sat around the dining room table with her husband and his friends. Peter had been unable to join them; he had been so distant of late. Remus had explained that his work for the Order was starting to get to him, that he had always been the most nervous, least certain, least likely to cope. Sirius had, in his more merciless moments, suggested that Peter had always been a bit of coward, but Lily had tried to reason that not everyone had what it took to remain strong.

"It's difficult," Lily had explained, "Not just for people like Peter but for all of us. Who amongst us can honestly claim that our work is more difficult than it has ever been? Who can say that things aren't different to the way we thought they'd be when we first joined?"

Sirius had been unable to reply. He had known that what she said was true. But it seemed there was no room for such thoughts this evening, and it gave Lily great pleasure to sit and to talk as though things had never changed. If she closed her eyes she could almost imagine that they were sitting in the Gryffindor common room, talking about an impending Quidditch match. James could be sitting beside her on the sofa, and she could be trying to make him see why he had to behave a bit more responsibly now he had been made Head Boy. She could almost hear Sirius' snorts of derision as he flung himself back in his favourite chair by the fire and announced something to Remus, and subsequently to the whole common room, that had been deliberately designed to provoke a response. In her mind's eye she imagined the way Remus would look up patiently from his revision, rolling his eyes before ignoring what his friend had said completely. The sounds, the scents, the sensations: it all could have happened not long ago. Indeed, it had only been just over a year since they had taken their N.E.W.T.s.

"Well," Sirius said, leaning back in his chair and casting his eyes about the room. "I do have to say this is a particularly nice house."

Lily had to agree. Although there was still lots of unpacking to do, and they still had to make the place their own, she had fallen in love with house from the moment she had seen it. It was so unlike the house she had grown up in as a child, a narrow, red-brick house, one of many, in a mill-town in the North. She had always felt that they been forced to live on top of each other, her and Petunia, and that maybe if they'd had more space as children then they wouldn't have grown apart. This house was so different, with its large, glass windows and high ceilings. When they had viewed it the rooms had been filled with golden, autumnal light that cast everything in such an optimistic glow that Lily felt almost certain that they would be happy here.

"It's quite big for two people though, isn't it?" Lily remarked casually, without thinking, automatically reddening when she saw the smile that passed between Sirius and Remus. She knew what they were thinking because she had been thinking it too, although James seemed blissfully ignorant as he began talking of his plans for the garden.

It was late before Remus and Sirius left. Lily hugged them and said goodbye before moving to the kitchen to do the washing up. As she filled the sink with water she smiled to herself as she heard James shout goodbye to his friends. Lily had accepted that, in marrying James, she would be eternally linked to all of his friends: that there would sometimes be more than two people in their marriage. There had been a time, Lily thought to herself, rinsing a bowl in the sink and leaving it to drain, when she had disliked Sirius. When they had been younger and at Hogwarts he seemed to have taken great pleasure in causing her pain with his cutting remarks. But she had learnt how to respond, and Sirius had changed, and now Lily felt nothing but affection for James' best friend.

It had always been entirely different to her friendship with Remus. Out of all the Marauders Remus had been the one she had had warmed instantly to. Even in the years when she had only seen James and Sirius as arrogant, self-serving and pig-headed she had known that there was something intensely kind about Remus. He was compassionate, modest and understanding. He had a talent for making people feel instantly at ease. Lily blushed to remember that there had been a time when she had contemplated whether or not her feelings for Remus crossed the line of friendship; although even then Lily had found it impossible to ignore the way that her feelings for James were changing.

But there had been cost, Lily thought to herself, catching her dark reflection in the window that looked out onto the garden. She might have gained the friendship of men she had learnt to respect and to love, but she had lost someone else in the process. When she had realised her love for James Lily had also come to see how impossible it would be to keep Severus as a friend. The Marauders had never understood it; James had always been jealous, and even her other friends had never been able to fathom just why she would care about him.

"But he's really not all bad," she remembered trying to explain to Mary, a blonde-haired Gryffindor girl she was friends with.

"But he's a Slytherin!" Mary said contemptuously, her nose wrinkling slightly.

"So?" Lily had huffed. "That doesn't mean anything.

But had it? Lily thought to herself, looking down from her reflection to pull the plug from the sink. Had it made all the difference in the world that they had been in separate houses? There had been a time when Lily had clung to this naive belief to explain why their lives had taken them in such different directions, to understand why they had become such separate people, so changed from the way they had been as children. But as she had grown older, grown closer to James, Lily had come to understand, perhaps belatedly, that her friendship with Snape had never been that simple; and that the choices that they had made had been as much in their control as out of it.

"Leave that," James' voice shook Lily out of her reverie with a start, and she looked over her shoulder at him standing in the kitchen doorway.

"Who's going to do it if I don't?"

"I'll do it in the morning," James claimed. Lily did not believe him.

"Do you think this house is too big?" James asked as they switched of the lights in the kitchen and dining room before climbing the stairs.

"That did cross my mind when we first saw it," Lily confessed, causing James to look at her quizzically from over the top of his glasses. "I thought it was a bit much…"

"But you loved this house…"

"I do love this house," Lily said as they reached the upstairs landing. "It was just...a bit overwhelming."

"And now?" James asked, looking around them, down the hallway with many rooms leading from it. "How do you feel now?"

Lily gave way to her smile. "Now I feel very happy." Having spoken Lily had opened the bedroom door and gone to walk inside but James had stopped her, grabbing her round the wrist. "What?" she asked.

"Don't you want me to carry you across the threshold?" James had smirked as he said this and Lily, almost certain that she had no choice in the matter, attempted to stop him. He was too strong, too quick, and in one swift movement had swept her up into his arms with surprising ease and carried her into the room.

However, James was not graceful and, having got this far, he struggled to keep control of Lily as she flailed nervously, with occasional, half-hearted laughs of "Put me down!" as he knocked on the light with his elbow and staggered across the room. Lily laughed as he dropped her, rather clumsily, on the bed, laughing even harder when James, on moving back too quickly, hit his elbow on the bed-side table.

"So smooth, Potter," Lily laughed as James, who had been clutching at his arm and laughing tragically, flopped down on top of her, burying his face in her shoulder. She ran her fingers through his dark hair as he pretended to sob against her. "With moves like that I sometimes wonder why it took so long for you to win me round."

James drew back, his glasses skew-wiff, slightly steamy, his face red, contorted with both amusement and frustration. He looked down into the face of his wife and Lily felt her heart tighten, recognising the look he so often gave her: a look that seemed to communicate complete astonishment that he had managed to win her at all.

"Lily," James said, his voice an exhalation of hot breath against her face. She felt her heart respond, unable to conceal her true emotions behind witty quips when he was so close to her, holding her body captive. "I'm so happy…" Lily's smile would not be denied and she moved her hands from where they rested beside her on the bed to either side of her husband's face. "You make me so happy." Lily drew him to her and pressed her lips to his. His eyes fluttered closed, only to open again to gaze down at her as she pulled away. "Sometimes I can't quite believe it. I never honestly thought…" Words failed him and Lily felt her pulse flutter as he raised his hands and passed his fingers through her hair and down over the dip in her shoulder. "Sometimes I wonder when you'll realise that you've made a mistake, and remember how much you used to hate me…"

Lily would have laughed if she hadn't been so distracted by the heat and the weight of James' body. As it was she could do nothing but focus on the joy that she felt at being here, in a house that was truly theirs, on the cusp of a journey that they would take together. Lily could feel nothing but excitement as she thought of the nights that they would spend together in this bed, and the mornings that she would wake, feeling reassured by James' arm about her waist.

Driven by these thoughts Lily moved her hands so that they rested on the small of James' back, her fingers dancing momentarily there before she slipped them between the warmth of his shirt and his skin. She was rewarded by a soft moan from James, who looked down at her with a mischievous smile.

"I never hated you, James," Lily reassured him. James laughed, the laughter vibrating across the sensitive skin of her ear as he whispered, hotly, "'Course you didn't…" James' hands were moving and Lily tried to stop herself from trembling, knowing that in a moment he would relieve her of her top. He kissed her neck gently. "You just had to overcompensate to mask your attraction to me…"

He drew away slightly, to allow more room to both remove her clothes and to regard her face. Lily rolled her eyes, willingly allowing James to get away with this, leaning forward to allow him to remove her top, and as she took off his glasses she said with a smile, "That must have been it."

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Let me know what you think xxx


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Thank you for reading and reviewing. Sorry for the long wait foR updates. Unfortunately life always has a habit of interfering with fanfiction (HOW DARE IT!?)_

_Thank to my beta Megan and to SomethingBorrowed for all her kind words. _

_Disclaimer: Alas, I do not own the Harry Potter world. I merely dip into it from time to time. No need to sue._

**We return to Snape's perspective.**

* * *

The leaves on the trees in the garden had turned brown. He had watched them with a cold, detached fascination, remembering moments from his distant pass when he had seen the seasons change. As a child, in the place he had grown up, there had been a decided lack of green, open spaces, nothing much to distinguish the change amongst the rows of red-bricked houses and cobbled streets. When he had first arrived at Hogwarts he had never seen such a landscape: the grass that swept up towards the castle, the mountains that stretched up towards the sky, the infinite expanse of water…but no good could come of thinking of those things now. Those days were behind him. An uncertain future lay ahead, and Snape turned as he heard the sound of footsteps behind him.

"Is it over?" he asked to Karkaroff, who had moved across the room to join him by his place at the window. Snape watched as Karkaroff wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, noted the sickly scent of blood that had drifted in with his arrival but that was completely lacking on his robes or hands. It was unlikely that Igor Karkaroff would get his hands dirty.

Another day, another house: another family that needed to be disposed of. Location was of the utmost importance, followed closely by the size, but Snape had noticed the Dark Lord's tendency to choose the Muggles themselves with care. On this occasion the house had belonged to a lonely old Muggle spinster with failing eyesight and a trusting nature. On opening the front door Snape could see that she was completely ignorant of the precarious nature of her situation, ignorant of the danger she had allowed into her home and the death that would almost certainly come to her. The Dark Lord did not care to dispose of these people himself. That pleasure was delegated any one of many willing volunteers, eager to carry out their master's will. This time it had been deemed that Bellatrix was the most deserving and as Snape, Rabastsan and Redolphus had made their way down the hallway Bellatrix had placed an arm about the lonely spinster's shoulder, guiding her into the living room, closing the door behind them.

"The body shall have to be disposed of," Snape articulated coolly.

"It will be taken care of," Karkaroff replied, his eyes turning to the window and the garden that Snape had previously been surveying. "Before the Dark Lord arrives. Snape?" At the sound of his name Snape turned. "What do you know of the spy?"

"Spy?" Snape queried, at a loss to understand to what Karkaroff was asking.

"The Dark Lord…" Karkaroff began to explain, somewhat hesitantly. "The Dark Lord has been approached by someone…someone working for the other side. They have offered information."

"In return for?" Snape asked. Karkaroff raised his eyebrows and Snape continued, "It is my experience that no-one offers something without expecting something in return."

Karkaroff laughed. "And what experience can you claim to have?"

Snape's lips tightened and he refused to answer. He had grown used to the comments of others, the insinuations that he was young, inexperienced, less qualified than most to serve the Dark Lord. The Lestranges spoke to him with supreme arrogance. Bellatrix, in particular, had always regarded him with contempt. But Snape had long since learned that overzealous rivalry was not what the Dark Lord valued, and that those amongst the Death Eaters that had convinced themselves that they were favoured above all others were deluded. The Dark Lord cared nothing for their ardour when it failed to deliver effective results. There had been many who had joined and had subsequently been disposed of for failing: even Regulus, most desperate to please, had not been saved by his fervour.

"And how is it you know of this?" Snape turned slowly, his eyes fixing on Karkaroff as he sunk down into the chair by the fireplace. "I find it unlikely that the Dark Lord should have confided in you."

Karkaroff's top lip twitched. "You hear things, see things…but it's clear you don't know…"

Before Snape could reply the door had opened and a witch with black hair and unstable grey eyes had entered, her fingers caressing the wand that she still held in one hand, her face stained with the joy of a new kill. Bellatrix Lestrange had a lust for murder that was only matched by the passion with which she spoke to the Dark Lord. When Snape had first heard her he had felt nauseated, unable to contemplate how any woman could speak to him with such open desire. They could feel reverence, devotion, a servitude that perhaps transgressed the normal, but not passion. The Dark Lord was not a man of flesh and blood, susceptible to those feelings which inspired longing in a woman and resigned jealousy in a husband who could not sate his wife's appetite for power. The Dark Lord was a symbol, a focus for thwarted ambitions, unrecognised talents: a means to an end of the unacknowledged rights of Pure-blood wizards.

Bellatrix's eyes moved from the face of Karkaroff to Snape, who determinedly met her stare and asked coolly, "What do you know of the Dark Lord's spy?"

Before she had time to suppress it Snape noted the way Bellatrix paled, the flush of the murder she had just committed draining away: it was clear that she knew nothing either. However, it appeared that she was unwilling to admit to this and, moving into the room, she articulated, "It is not for us to question the Dark Lord's intentions. It is merely our duty to serve…"

"Without question?" Karkaroff queried in a moment of unguarded contempt. It was foolish to speak with such rashness, Snape thought, watching the way Bellatrix was now eyeing Karkaroff. If one doubted then it was prudent to keep such thoughts to oneself.

"You forget yourself, Igor," Snape tried to caution but Bellatrix interrupted, "It would seem that in all these months running from Moody you have lost sight of what is important."

Karkaroff laughed tersely at Bellatrix's thinly veiled threat before continuing sharply, "Those buffoons are no nearer catching me then they were weeks ago! Besides, my loyalty to the Dark Lord cannot be doubted! Who else helped bring about the Prewett's murder?"

Bellatrix laughed mirthlessly, shaking her head slowly so that her dark hair fell over her eyes. "Do you think we do not know the truth?" Snape remained silent, observing the way Bellatrix walked over to where Karkaroff was sitting, her voice mockingly-sweet as she continued, "Do you think the Dark Lord does not know the way in which you shunned your responsibilities, jeopardised success by your cowardice only to be saved by Dolohov and Macnair?"

Karkaroff took a sharp intake of breath in an attempt to master his anger but Bellatrix, particularly deft and provoking knelt, down by the side of the chair in which Karkaroff was sat and, pressing a pale hand to his cheek, chided in her child-like way, "Poor, poor, Karkaroff…so…" She paused, drawing her hand across Karkaroff's face, caressing him, before continuing with a vicious hiss, "weak!"

"You do not know!" Karkaroff accused, moving to his feet as Bellatrix withdrew her hand laughing. "You do not know, anymore than Snape!"

"Snape!" Bellatrix jeered, turning to face the man she had forgotten about until now. Snape prepared himself and was unsurprised when she asked, "What do you know?"

"Nothing," Snape replied, without even a heartbeat's of hesitation. "That the Dark Lord doesn't deem fit to confide in me."

There was something of a challenged in what Bellatrix had asked him. He had recognised it and had intoned his answer accordingly. She didn't need to know that Snape was ignorant: that, until a few moments ago, he had not known about the spy. Her desire to place herself above all others, to be the most trusted, the most ruthless, the highest valued could be made to work to his advantage. By insinuating that he may have more knowledge than he possessed Snape found it the most effective way of keeping her from knowing his true thoughts.

He had his suspicions. In the time that had elapsed since Karakaroff had confided in him Snape had systematically considered each and every possibility. There were those who could be seen as too insignificant to be valued for their contribution: Doge, Dearborn. The spy would possibly be in the employ of the Ministry, perhaps an Auror but also, in order to be useful to the Dark Lord, suitably close to Dumbledore. In his mind Snape had amused himself by thinking who amongst the self-righteous and sanctimonious classmates would now, seeing the error of their ways, be more than willing to betray and trust in the Dark Lord's promises of glory? The werewolf, perhaps: seeking some refuge, some justification of his darker side? Black, Snape thought contemptuously, in an attempt to reclaim some of the pure-blood fervour he lost in the years at Hogwarts? Potter, prompted by a self-serving streak that Snape had always suspected, had endeavoured to point out…

Here Snape had found the line of mental inquiry blocked, halted by an unbidden image that he struggled, with varying degrees of success, to repress. _He fancies you, James Potter fancies you!_ In his mind's eye he saw the red-hair, the pretty face, and those green eyes watching him as he had grown inarticulate as he tried to express his dislike. No, she would never…it could _never_ be her. Lily Evans, his playmate from childhood, his friend and, as they had grown older, his…Snape prevented himself from considering further what she had been, what she had grown to be for him. It was over. It had ended. She had chosen and so had he; and now their lives, which had once been compromised of joint hopes and fears, had been separated. The road they journeyed on lead them further away from one another; and Snape had, long ago, refused to turn back.

The door to the room opened and Rodolphus Lestrange, a man of impressive stature with dark, sunken eyes, appeared and, ignoring Snape and Karkaroff completely, addressed his wife and asked, "Are you going to join us?"

Bellatrix relinquished her hold over Snape's eyes and, retreating to the doorway, cooed at Karkaroff, "Perhaps you should stay here…in the background…with Snape…"

As she had intended, Karkaroff followed her and Rodolphus out of the room. Snape remained at the place he had occupied at the window, turning back to look out at the garden outside. The light was dying, slipping behind the clouds that rolled overhead on the autumnal evening, and Snape fixed his mind on the shadows beneath the trees, and the vacuum of the absence of memory, as there was a cry of "_Incedio!"_ from the adjacent room and, with a hiss of flames, the body burned.

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_Thank you for reading. Remember to let me know what you think xxx_


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: Apologies, dear reader, for the delay. I haven't written for so long but it was about time I got back to it._

_A big thank you to all those of you who have read and reviewed. A big thank you to Meg and to SomethingBorrowed._

_We return now to Lily's perspective._

* * *

Lily couldn't help but resent James' insistence that she didn't travel alone. She valued her independence above all things, occasionally to the detriment of her personal safety. But, of course, she would never admit this to James. It would only add to his argument that times had changed and it was unwise to tempt fate by travelling alone.

"Don't you think I'm more than capable of looking after myself?" she had fumed one day, her eyes fiercely fixed on her husband. Remus and Sirius, who had just returned with a round of drinks, sensed the brewing argument and tactfully began to talk amongst themselves.

"That's not what I'm saying at all," James stressed with a wave of his hand.

"You go off on your own all the time! So do Sirius and Remus…" At the mention of his name Sirius looked up but Remus, perhaps knowing better, kept his eyes fixed on his drink.

"But that's different. They're…" James had began to say without thinking but at Sirius' sharp intake of breath and swift shake of the head he had fallen silent.

"What, James? Were you going to say that it's different because they're men?"

James had shaken his head and said, "That's not what I meant. Look, Lily, I understand that you don't appreciate the way things have to be." He reached across the table and, as much as she didn't want to respond, Lily couldn't help but allow him to take her hand. "But I love you. And I don't want to lose you. So please…"

"Nearly there," a voice wheezed beside her, shaking Lily out of her reverie. It had been Peter's turn to accompany her to Ottery St. Catchpole, although she had insisted that she be allowed to make the visit to The Burrow alone.

Peter seemed more than happy to comply. In the weeks that had past, with first the murder of Benjy Fenwick and now the deaths of Gideon and Fabian Prewett, Peter had become increasingly jumpy. He had always been nervous by nature. For as long as Lily could remember he had scurried along behind his friends - friends who were much more confident than he was – his beady eyes always watching, always calculating. In fact, Peter's nature often unsettled her.

At first, when they had all been younger and Lily hadn't really known the Marauders all that well she had always put Peter's nervousness down to the effect of having such domineering friends. However, as they had grown older and she had grown closer to the Marauders she had come to suspect that there was something baser, more integral to Peter's personality that made him constantly anxious; something almost sinister in his weakness.

"They're nice," Peter said, his eyes darting towards Lily's hands.

Lily had bought flowers, a gesture which suddenly felt empty as she walked up the path to The Burrow. She looked up at the ramshackle building. The sky was already darkening. Through the windows which were blinkered by the shutters that blew open and closed in the wind she could see two red-haired boys chasing each other up the stairs, their father in swift pursuit.

"I'll be alright from here," Lily said, warmed by the sight of life in The Burrow in a time when life seemed to be being extinguished all around them.

"Prongs will meet you later," Peter said, his voice muffled by the scarf he had pulled up so it covered his mouth. But there was no mistaking the tone of pride with which he said, "Well I better be going. This war isn't going to win itself…" And with a sharp CRACK Peter had gone.

After a momentary hesitation Lily knocked and after the pounding of descending footsteps from within the door opened to reveal the red-haired, and now red-faced, man on the other side.

"How are you Arthur?" Lily asked as Arthur manoeuvred himself back into the narrow hallway, picking his way through the Wellingtons and jackets that had slipped from their places on pegs.

"Keeping my chin up," Arthur replied, closing the night out behind Lily and, with a flick of his wand, securely locking the door. The smile he tried to force wavered slightly as he looked down at the flowers Lily was carrying and said hurriedly, "Oh that's very kind of you, my dear, very much appreciated." His attention was fixed on the multi-coloured tissue paper that had been wrapped around the bouquet and he asked with genuine interest, "Very pretty. Did you go to one of those special shops? Oh, now, what do the Muggles call them?"

"A florist?" Lily asked with a smile.

"Ah, yes, that's it! A _florist_," he articulated slowly.

At that moment there was the sound of voices from the floor above and Lily looked up to see the two boys she had glimpsed through the windows bound down the stairs.

"Bill! Charlie!" Arthur reprimanded and almost instantly the two boys came to an abrupt halt. "What have I told you about running up and down the stairs? You know you have to be more considerate towards your mother."

The eldest boy, Bill, glanced out of the corner of his eye to his younger brother, Charlie, who was trying not to smile down at his feet.

"Well?" Arthur chastised with less conviction.

The two boys lifted their heads and intoned in unison, "Sorry dad."

"Well…yes…" Arthur gave an imploring look to Lily who, sensing his inexperience at disciplining his children, took over. "Why don't you boys go upstairs and play now? I'm sure you'll be both be able to come up with something _much _more interesting then running up and down a stupid staircase."

It seemed to work and Bill pulled his younger brother up the stairs behind him by the sleeve of his too big jumper.

Relieved, Arthur watched his two sons disappear into the darkness of the corridor above and turned back to Lily with a grateful smile.

"Boys," Lily offered in explanation.

"Hard work, this family business," Arthur said. "Those two," he continued, raising his eyes to the ceiling, beyond which Lily imagined Bill and Charlie were already playing, "are usually as good as gold. I think all this…_business_ lately has upset them." He'd stressed the word delicately and Lily caught the way he frowned. But as he guided her along a narrow corridor towards the kitchen he seemed to recover some of his characteristic cheeriness as he continued to talk about his children. "Percy's never been any trouble. You'd hardly know he was there sometimes. But Fred and George…" Arthur trailed off, his hand on the handle to the kitchen door, and turned to Lily and said with a shake of his head, but what Lily was certain was a mischievous glint in his eye, "They're going to give us a run for our money."

He opened the door and the warmth of the kitchen hit Lily immediately. A boy of about two sat on the rug by the fire, quietly turning the pages of a magically illustrated book entitled _My First Wizarding Alphabet_. A plump, short woman wearing a flowery apron was standing at the stove, stirring something which was bubbling in a pot with circular movements of her wand. In the corner of the room Lily could just about glimpse two identical sleeping faces, tucked tightly beneath patchwork blankets, being rocked in their enchanted crib.

"Molly?" Arthur called but Molly didn't hear. As she stirred she stared absently out of the window, out into the landscape which was being obscured by the light rain that had begun to pelt the glass. Lily hung back in the doorway, fearful of intruding on her sadness and watched as Arthur crossed the room to his wife, pausing to ruffle Percy's hair where he was reading, before placing a hand on Molly's shoulder and causing her to start and turn round.

"Molly?" Arthur repeated very gently and as Molly's eyes caught Lily's she quickly brushed away the tears from her flushed cheeks. "Lily's here."

Lily tried to smile but no smile would come. She suddenly felt awkward, uncomfortable, unsure of what to do or say. To fill the silence Lily extended her arm, holding out the bunch of flowers she had bought as an offer of sympathy for Molly to take. Molly managed a small smile as she said very quietly, "Thank you."

Arthur took the flowers and, after placing them in the cracked Butler sink, guided Molly to the low wooden table and, pulling out a chair, said softly, "You sit down now. Take the weight off. I'll make you and Lily some tea and then leave you'll to it…"

Lily wrapped her hands around the mug of tea, grateful for its warmth, and blew the steam away. With Arthur gone a sombre silence had descended in the room between the two women, broken only by the rhythmic rocking of the crib and the light turning of pages. After what felt like forever Molly took a deep breath and said, in a voice barely above a whisper, "I just can't get used to them being gone."

Lily, seized by a sudden tenderness and a desire to comfort, reached across the table and squeezed Molly's hand. Molly looked up, her brown eyes dark with sorrow, barely concealing the inconsolable grief that Lily knew she must be feeling.

Even though Lily had told herself that the words would seem so meaningless if she spoke them, she couldn't help but say, "I'm so sorry Molly."

At this Molly released Lily's hand and, shaking her head she began in restrained tones, "I always knew the dangers. I always realised that there would be causalities…" Her voice had wavered and she broke off, unable to control the emotions that were swiftly overcoming her. Lily watched, desperate to console but cautious of interrupting, as Molly's shoulders rose and fall. Finally, after regaining some sort of composure, Molly continued, "But _why_ them, Lily?"

"I don't know," Lily said quietly.

"They were good, honest men. I couldn't have asked for two better brothers." Molly shook her head at this, anger swiftly replacing sadness as she placed one hand on her swollen stomach and said vehemently, "What sort of world is this to bring a baby into? What sort of future will it have?"

After only a momentary hesitation Lily answered. "A future that we must keep fighting for." Molly's anger seemed to subside then and Lily felt her eyes fix keenly on her as she continued, "That's who we're fighting for Molly. We're fighting for your children, born and unborn, just as much as we're fighting for your brothers who sacrificed their lives to give others a chance to live."

Tears rolled down Molly's cheeks as she asked, "You've lost people close to you, Lily. You can understand."

Lily thought then of her parents, of her father who had died when she was fifteen and of her mother who had passed away shortly after she had married James the previous summer. At her mother's funeral James had held her hand, silently handed her a handkerchief during the service, had reassured her when Petunia and her husband Vernon had snubbed them.

That night James had treated her tenderly, caring for her as though she were a child. Indeed, that was how she had felt having suddenly been left without either of her parents. _He_ _knows how I feel _she had thought to herself as he had bent down before her to remove her shoes. James had lost both of his parents. However, as James had helped her out of her clothes and into her pyjamas and had guided her over to the bed, this thought had afforded her very little comfort. Even though he had climbed in beside her and gathered her into his arms she had felt alone, as if she was the only person to ever lose someone: that no one else could possibly understand.

"My mother died last year, my father when I was in my fifth year at Hogwarts…"

Suddenly there was an interruption. There had been a knock at the door and Arthur had opened it and now both Lily and Molly sat listening to the sound of two male voices. The kitchen door opened and Lily had never been more relieved to see her husband standing on the other side.

"I managed to get here earlier than I thought. If you don't want to go now I'll understand…"

But no sooner had James spoken then Molly had crossed the room, gathering Percy into her arms as she did so, and, with a glance to the clock on the wall whose arms now pointed at "Dinnertime" said, "Good heavens! I had no idea that was the time!" She ushered both James and Arthur into the kitchen and, placing Percy in Lily's lap, continued cheerily, "Now I absolutely _insist_ that you both stay for dinner."

"Oh, no Molly," Lily said as Percy settled quietly into her lap. "We wouldn't want to intrude…"

"Nonsense. I'm sure I'll find someway of stretching it to two more people. I always manage somehow…"

"Well, as long as you're sure Molly," James said with a sidelong glance to his wife.

Lily looked at Molly and realised that what she needed was not to tell her how much she missed her brothers; how painful it was knowing that they'd never meet the child she was caring or how frightened she was that the world that child might inherit was so uncertain. What Molly needed was to get on with things, to keep busy, to keep going and, with that in mind, Lily said with a smile, "Why not? It's been ages since we all had dinner together. Can't say I won't be grateful for an excuse not cook."

Molly clapped her hands together and busied herself with a spell from one of the magical cookbooks she retrieved from the mantelpiece. Arthur and James spoke only a short while of the Ministry and the Order before Bill and Charlie's arrival caused all serious talk to cease all together.

"Did you know Daddy's friend was one of the best Quidditch players Hogwarts has ever seen?"

"Really?" Bill said, gazing at James in awe, encouraging him with that look to launch into his tales of how many times he single-handedly ensured that Gryffindor won every match he played in.

Lily watched her husband talking, animatedly re-enacting a time he had nearly fallen from his broom at least one hundred feet from the ground. Percy wrapped his little arms around her neck and sat motionlessly in her lap. She lowered her mouth and kissed his head, reassured by the future she held tightly in her arms. But the rain which had started so gently outside was now falling persistently and as Lily looked to the window and to the pitchy blackness of the clouds overhead she knew that a storm was coming.

_Thank you for reading. Don't forget to review xxx_


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: Thank you to those who have been reading, reviewing and adding this to your story alerts. I shall endeavour to do your interest justice._

_Just to reiterate this will not be an A/U story and will stick as strictly to canon as I possibly can. This is the best way to do Rowlings work justice and makes it challenging for me._

_Thank you to SomethingBorrowed and Megan for all their encouragement._

**We return to Snape's perspective.**

* * *

Through endless dark corridors he travelled. His mind was a maze, a myriad of things half-remembered, desperately forgotten; images that during the watchful, waking hours he managed to suppress but at night would spring unbidden into his dreams. Some nights he would reach for the door at Spinner's End and through the crack glimpse the broken, shell of a woman he called Mother clutching desperately to the sideboard as the man he would _never_ call Father hissed bitterly through clenched teeth the words "Vile!" "Despicable!" and "Inhuman!"

Sometimes, at the end of the corridor, there was an old man with a grey beard and half-moon spectacles balanced on his nose opening his arms to him, encouraging him to come forward. And when the man moved aside Snape could see the towers of Hogwarts behind him, gleaming gold against blue in the sunlight, shinning.

These images would flash and then fade, giving way to the horrific. Now there was only one place this corridor would lead him and, with his hand hovering hesitantly above the handle, he could already smell it: the scent of blood.

Nausea hit him before he could prepare himself for it. It gripped his guts, twisting them, threatening to burst forth even as he struggled to choke it back. His hands were shaking and as he looked down he could see spreading towards him on the carpet, pooling towards him from the thin beam of light at the bottom of the door, the blood of the victim that had died in the room beyond.

He could not escape it. There would be no escaping it this time and as he tried to move away the puddle grew, spreading so it covered his feet; the thick, stickiness clinging to the bottom of his robes that were left trailing in it. It would never come off. It would never be clean. The scent of death, the sight of blood, the acrid taste of magic on his lips would never leave him. Intoxicating as it was sickening he would never be rid of it. It was no use to try and escape.

Once again, Severus Snape couldn't sleep. It was foolish, he realised, allowing himself to succumb to insomnia. It left him feeling weakened: unable to mask his true feelings as successfully as he would have been able to had he been sleeping well. His mind needed to be rested at night in order to be prepared for the demands he would make on it during the day: keeping his thoughts constantly shrouded from those who were simply waiting for him to make a mistake.

Snape sat down on the bed, the mattress sagging beneath him as he poured himself a glass of water from the pitcher on the bedside table. As he drained its contents he surveyed his surroundings: the floral wallpaper that matched the quilt on the bed, the thick pink carpet. At the foot of the bed was a chest upon which sat three china dolls. Against one wall was a white wardrobe, full of the clothes that the little girl who used to occupy this room would no longer wear. As he placed the glass back down Snape could barely suppress the shiver as he thought of what had become of the family that had been "disposed of". How could anyone in that house be expected to sleep?

Snape slowly rose to his feet, forgoing the pretence of sleeping any further and, moving to the desk that was beneath the window, turned on the lamp with an idle flick of his wand. All at once the room was illuminated in ghostly electric light and, one hand resting on the back of the chair, Snape began to read the titles of the books that lined the shelves above the desk; _The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, Treasure Island, Black Beauty. _He had always been an insatiable reader but these Muggle stories had always failed to interest him. He looked down to the desk and to the pieces of paper left discarded of scribbled lines and half-doodled pictures.

"We _really_ shouldn't be in here, Sev," a voice from the past came floating back and Snape saw himself, albeit a much younger version, creep across the room towards a desk not dissimilar to the one that was before him now.

"I just want to look at something," had been his reply. He had turned and saw his companion, a young girl with almond-shaped green eyes and red hair, give one last worried look over her shoulder before entering the room, closing the door behind her.

"Tuney will go mad if she finds you in here."

Snape had snorted derisively before saying, "She's never liked me." Snape's eyes scanned the desk top, looking for something that he couldn't remember. But then suddenly something else had caught his attention… "Come look at this."

Lily had crossed the room and, turning, Snape held out the envelope for her to take. She turned it in her hands and, on seeing the Hogwarts crest she had gasped and asked in a whisper, "What is she doing with a letter from Hogwarts?"

"We'll soon find out…"

"No. I don't think we should open it," she had said then, resting her hand on his arm, instantly causing him to stop.

"Why not?" Snape had snapped callously. "Why would she be writing to Dumbledore? I didn't even know Muggles could. I didn't think she was too keen on the idea of having a witch as a sister?"

Lily shrugged, her green eyes downcast. "I know," she had said. "But I still don't think we should open it…."

Outside in the garden a fox barked and the scene from Snape's past faded. There had been a time, in the months immediately after his graduation from Hogwarts, when he hadn't thought of her at all. Even on the day he had opened the _Daily Prophet _and read the announcement that Lily Evans was to be married to James Potter he hadn't allowed himself the indulgence of regret. _Good riddance! _he had thought to himself sending a burst of flames from the end of his wand, watching as the flames engulfed the enchanted picture.

However, in the past few weeks he had been preoccupied with these memories, these visions from his past. They would enter his mind when he least expected it and he would dwell on them longer than he ever intended. In the past weeks the war had intensified; there had been more frequent battles, more serious losses. It had become more difficult to remain certain of the Dark Lord's triumph when the resistance showed no signs of waning. Through this Snape began to sense that the directions that their lives had taken them were now leading them towards one another again; that all the while he was journeying up some insurmountable mountain he had only to reach the top and he would see her, his Lily, travelling up a similar path towards him from the opposite side.

His skin prickled uncomfortably at the thought and, feeling suddenly mentally and physically exhausted. Snape turned out the light and, covering the distance swiftly, lay down in the bed. The moon was a sickle outside the window illuminating the room in frosty light. From somewhere in the hallway downstairs a grandfather clock chimed three. The house fell silent and Snape considered the Dark Lord's movements: did he ever sleep? In his minds eye Snape could see him in a room with only Nagini for a company, whispering things in Parseltongue. _What sorts of things does he whisper? _Snape wondered. Occasionally Snape had caught fragments of words between the hissing and he had wondered whether his mind had become accustomed to the language he didn't understand. There was something about a cave, far away by the sea, something of great importance that was to take place there. But beyond this Snape was ignorant. As skilled a Legilimens as he had become Snape never dared risk showing signs of this to the Dark Lord, nor to any of the Dark Lord's more ardent followers. Despite his curiosity Snape knew too well what could happen to those who were foolish enough to profess more knowledge than it was wise to possess. His secret skills as an Occlumens were what were of greater importance. It had surprised Snape that it had mattered so much to him to keep some small part of his mind that was truly his own, when he had so freely given everything else to the Dark Lord.

Snape stared up at the patterns the leaves from the trees outside cast across the ceiling, feeling, finally, his mind succumbing to sleep. With his last waking thoughts Snape considered the many sleepless nights he had experienced during his lifetime and how this insomnia had finally been remedied. And, as he finally relaxed, allowing his head to sink into the pillow and for the soft tendrils of sleep to embrace him, his mind fixed on that distant place of ever-busy corridors, footsteps on the Grand Staircase, the endless possibilities of learning and the shimmering infinity of the Black Lake.

**Reviews and words of encouragment are eagerly anticipatied :)**


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: I am thinking that there must be more people reading this than are reviewing at the moment. My hit count is generally quite high. If you are reading this I would love to know what you think and whether or not you are enjoying reading as much as I'm enjoying writing._

_A big thanks to Meg and SomethingBorrowed for being my official partners in fanfiction related crimes._

**We return to Lily as she too has trouble sleeping. The clock chimes three and Lily wakes from a memory from the past to be comforted by James.**

* * *

t was Christmas Day when Lily woke: a Christmas Day of so many years ago and even though Lily distantly realised that she was still sleeping, that this was nothing more than a memory conjured up in a dream, it felt as vivid and as real as though she were living that day all over again. Her eyes fluttered open and she stared up at the ceiling. The room was already bright, much brighter than would be expected after such a bleak week, and as she turned her head on the pillow Lily could see sunshine peeping tentatively through the chink in the curtain.

Very slowly she sat up, pushing the pillow to support her as she tucked her knees under her chin and wrapped her arms around them beneath the covers. It was far too cold to move yet. As she exhaled a small puff of mist seemed to confirm this and for a long time Lily didn't move. She sat frozen in bed.

A light knock at the door roused her attention and, after murmuring a good morning, the handle on the door turned and Lily's mother entered. She had never been a very large woman but in the weeks following her husband's death she had grown so much smaller. She was thinner than she previously was and walked with the slight stop of someone who has suffered a great loss which made her appear shorter than she had been once. She was holding a cup of tea firmly in her hands and, closing the door behind her, she placed it down on the bedside table and, having placed a kiss on Lily's forehead, sat down at the bottom of the bed.

Lily wanted, very much, to wish her a Merry Christmas but for some reason the words wouldn't form. Instead she took the cup in her hands and stared down at the paisley pattern on the bed sheets and waited for her mother to speak.

"It will be a cold day today," her mother said finally, rising from the bed as she spoke and moving to the window to pull the curtains. It had snowed during the night and now a thick blanket of white covered their back yard and the rooftops of all the terraced, red-bricked houses that stretched as far as the eye could see. Flowers of frost had grown on the inside of the windows and had made the sill damp. Mildew had begun to grow there. "I don't know whether you'd be better off wearing your boots…"

She trailed off, her eyes lingering in the direction of the black woollen dress and thick wool coat that were hanging outside Lily's wardrobe. In a box on the floor was a pair of new black patent shoes, wrapped up in their tissue paper, bought especially for the occasion.

"What time are we leaving?" Lily asked, breaking the emotional silence that had descended.

"The cars will be here at eleven. Petunia is already up making breakfast. She is insisting that I eat something before we leave."

"She is right, Mum," Lily said, swinging her legs out of the bed and hurriedly pulling on her dressing gown.

Lily's mother smiled a little then and, crossing the room and taking her daughter's hands in hers, she said, "I shall eat something if you do." Lily swallowed hard. The thought of eating anything that morning was enough to make her instantly nauseous. He mother released her hands and Lily felt suddenly as if she didn't want her to leave as she watched her make her way over to the door. To her slight relief she halted in the doorway and said, almost as if she had nearly forgotten, "We'll open presents afterwards."

Lily could only nod in response and watch as her mother closed the door. Standing barefoot she suddenly realised how cold it was and, moving over to the chair that was beneath the window, Lily sat and pulled on a pair of thick blue socks. As she did so her eyes searched the scene outside, alighting on a robin that had suddenly darted downwards and was now perched on the sloping roof of the outside, ruffling its feathers and puffing itself up to keep warm. For a few minutes she sat staring at the bird before finally, reluctantly, she moved over to her dressing table and began to pass a brush through her hair.

The reflection that blinked back at her from the mirror was someone Lily knew but did not recognise. Her fifteen, nearly sixteen year old self, seemed paler, frailer, sadder than she ever remembered during waking hours. Her hair was longer than she wore it now, tumbling over her shoulders and nearly sweeping down to her waist. She had been eighteen when she had finally decided that it was too long and had it cut. Her green eyes were recognisable; those, Lily assumed, would never change. But there was something about her image that was troubling, something in the downturn of her mouth, or the crease between her eyes, that mimicked what it pained her to see in her mother's face. In her dream Lily felt herself put the brush down and turn away from the reflection suddenly ashamed, frightened that at any moment her strength would ebb away and she would give in to grief.

Lily gently awoke and for a moment she was confused by her present surroundings; she had been so deeply submerged in the past. Gradually, as her eyes grew more accustomed to the pale moonlight she realised that she was in her bed in her house in Godric's Hollow, and she was not sleeping alone. Shifting slightly she saw James beside her, half his face buried deep into the pillow. As quietly as she could Lily switched on the lamp and, sitting up, reached to take the glass of water from the bedside table. She glanced at the clock. It had just gone three o'clock.

_Why am I dreaming of this now?_ Lily thought to herself, replacing the glass and shuffling downwards beneath the covers. Ever since she had spoken to Molly Lily had dwelled more than she would have liked to on all those she had loved and lost: those amongst the Order that had fallen in the past weeks the Prewetts, Benji Fenwick…_Bits_…was that the word she had remembered being whispered before she had entered the room, and James, Moody and Peter had tactfully directed their conversation away from unpleasant things for her sake? Was that all that was left of Benji? Lily shuddered to think and slid down beneath the blankets, pressing her body very close to James.

James stirred slightly and, chancing that her movements may have woken him, Lily said in a voice barely above a whisper, "I can't sleep."

James heard her speak and, somewhat reluctantly, struggled to open his eyes. He stretched his arms above his head and, after yawning deeply, reached out to gather Lily closer to him. Settling neatly against him she listened to the rise and fall of his chest before James asked, very sleepily, "What's the matter?"

"I just…." Lily faltered, suddenly afraid that she would be unable to communicate clearly why it was that she had woken. At this hesitation James' eyes instantly shot open. "My mind is full of things I can't forget. I _do _want to be strong…"

"It's okay," James whispered, planting a kiss on Lily's forehead. "You don't have to prove anything to me."

Lily was simultaneously comforted and resentful of this remark, and she would have moved away in a gesture of annoyance if she had not been held so tightly by James.

James, perhaps realising that this was not the right way to phrase what he had wanted to say, opened his eyes once again and asked very softly, "What is it that you can't forget?"

Lily shrugged before replying evasively, "Ever since I went to The Burrow I've not been able to think as clearly as before. Seeing Molly with her family…they were all so happy James. Why did it have to happen to them?"

After a very long pause James responded, "If you try to look for logic where there isn't any you'll never get to sleep…" He trailed off and Lily, placated by James' occasional words of wisdom, relaxed again into his arms. "All of us have tried to discern the reason for what is happening; whether it could have been prevented or not. If a great man like Dumbledore is at a loss to understand then I don't think any of us should feel so guilty for being unable to come up with the answers we desperately want."

Lily laid thinking for a moment. "Do you think that things could have been different?" She shifted her head so that she met her husband's concerned and interested gaze.

"I don't know…" James began reflectively before, at a feeble attempt at a joke, he ended, "I was never much good at Divination…" He watched Lily's face intently and, when he saw she was in no way amused, he continued in more serious tones, "Perhaps things could have been different. Sometimes I do wonder that. Moony thinks so. But then Sirius has a very different theory: that the Wizarding world has always been dependent on divisions – us from the Muggle world, Muggle-born from Half-Blood, Half-Blood from Pure Blood. He says that these divisions have almost always been encouraged and that it was only a matter of time before someone came along with enough power and persuasive rhetoric to cause a war."

"And what do you think?" Lily questioned.

"What do I think?" James repeated slowly, more for his own benefit than for Lily's. "I think that too much time can be spent dwelling on the past. We each have enough to do trying to work out where we all fit in the present, let alone what sort of role we will play in the future. That's what is most important to me: _our _future."

Lily lay very passively and, misinterpreting her lack of movement for sleep, James fumbled for his wand on the bedside table and, with a quick flick, turned off the lamp. A blue-grey darkness of the hours just before dawn swept the room and James, after fidgeting for a moment, settled down and fell into a peaceful sleep.

Lily, however, could not relax. James' words, far from comforting her as she was sure was his intention, had made her feel uneasy. As she lay in her husband's arms it was so easy to feel protected, loved. She had never doubted James' intentions in joining the Order: to fight for a future he was so certain that was waiting for them on the other side of conflict. It had been her cause too but she lacked James' absolute certainty that the past was irrelevant. As she lay in bed, watching the first tentative ways of sunlight creep across the carpet, listening to the first notes of the blackbird heralding in a new day, Lily felt very strongly that her past self was restless and, in some indescribable way, it would affect the future of them all.

_All reviews will be warmly received :)_


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N: Thank you to those of you who are reading and reviewing. Thank you to those of you who have followed me faithfully as an author and a thank you to those who may have just discovered this story by chance. I hope to do your kind words justice in the story I am absolutely loving creating._

_Funny how story time/real time tend to collide._

_A big thank you to SomethingBorrowed for her care and attention, and to Megan who has assured me will sort out my commas in future._

**We remain with Lily. As Halloween falls plans are changed to cater to a member of the Order who has lost those once dear to him.**

* * *

The arrangements had been changed last minute and Lily couldn't help but feel disappointed that they would not be celebrating their first Halloween in their home at Godric's Hollow. However, as she had Apparated on the street where Remus lived she felt her disappointment replaced by guilt. It had not been for nothing that the arrangements had been changed she thought to herself as she climbed the steps, pausing to find the buzzer with the name R.J. Lupin attached to it written in Remus' impeccable hand. That morning she and James had received a visit from Frank Longbottom and he had some very important things to tell them.

"Frank, I wasn't expecting you so early!" James remarked, walking over to the door to shake Frank firmly by the hand. Lily looked up from the copy of the _Daily Prophet _she had been reading and moved to stand.

"No, don't trouble yourself Lily," Frank said with a smile, crossing the room and planting a swift kiss on her cheek. Lily had a great deal of affection for Frank and Alice Longbottom. They were not so different from her and James, although both James and herself would be quick to acknowledge that Frank and Alice were far more talented. Again and again their contributions had proved invaluable to the Order: they had faced Voldemort himself and escaped twice. Not only did Frank and Alice command Lily's affection they also commanded her respect.

Frank sat down at the chair offered to him by James and Lily noticed how different he appeared to his usual, easygoing self. James had noticed it too and, sitting down beside him, he asked, "Is everything alright, Frank?"

Lily watched as Frank took a deep breath. "Yes…yes, I think so…" A curious smile played about his lips before his brown eyes locked with Lily's and he announced, "Alice and I are going to have a baby."

Both Lily and James were on their feet at once and Frank struggled to meet them. James grabbed his hand and shook it firmly, while Lily flung her arms about Frank's neck and hugged him hard.

"That's amazing!" James declared as though it truly was the most remarkable thing he'd ever heard. Lily laughed a genuine, joyous laugh that seemed to be infectious and soon Frank was laughing too, although he declared he didn't know why.

"How long have you known?" Lily asked, raising an eyebrow as her husband disappeared into the kitchen and returned with half a bottle of Firewhiskey and three glasses. "How is Alice?"

"Oh Alice is fine…a little surprised perhaps. I think we both are. We weren't really expecting this. We'd tried some years ago for children…and we were beginning to think it wasn't meant to be. Alice has suspected for some time but we saw the Medi-witch yesterday and everything was confirmed." He took a deep breath and shrugged modestly.

"That's wonderful. Really wonderful! I'm so happy for both of you!" Lily said with a smile. The clink of the glasses on the table caused her smile to falter slightly and she turned to James and said, reprimanding, "Don't you think it's a little bit early for that?"

"This is a cause for celebration, isn't it?" James announced, uncorking the bottle and giving the contents an experimental sniff. "Besides…what is it that you have to do? 'Drop the baby on its head'?"

"It's 'wet the baby's head', James," Lily said with a grin towards Frank. "And besides, that's a Muggle tradition."

"Well maybe it's time I embraced the Muggle way of life a little more. Asides from you insisting that I do the washing up 'the normal way'…"

"I think Lily's right, James," Frank said causing James to stop pouring and to look up, clearly disappointed. "Besides, there is something else I have to tell you." Frank's tone was serious and all at once James forgot his desire to "wet the baby's head" and waited apprehensively for what Frank was going to say. "We received word at the Order this morning that Orion Black has died."

"Oh no…" Lily said without thinking, sinking involuntarily into a chair.

Frank nodded slowly and James, resting one hand reassuringly on his wife's shoulder, asked, confused, "How do we know that? Did Sirius…?"

"No. No," was Frank's brusque reply. "One of our contacts at St Mungos informed us. It would seem he had been quite seriously ill for some time. Ever since Regulus' disappearance…"

"Let's just say what we really mean by that," James said rather impatiently and Lily felt his grip on her shoulder tighten slightly. "Ever since Regulus' death…"

"Yes, well," Frank continued, "A body was never found."

Lily felt James' hand leave her and she turned to see him walk some paces towards the fireplace, before he turned and asked, "Why didn't he tell us?"

Both Frank and Lily knew that he was referring to Sirius and it was Lily who replied, "Perhaps he didn't know, James. None of us know how much contact he still has with his family."

James nodded slowly, the logic of what Lily said placating him and, after a moment more of silence, he rubbed his forehead wearily before saying, "But who's going to tell him?"

Lily couldn't answer. She fully understood why James was so concerned, why they should all be so concerned about Sirius' possible reaction. He was unpredictable at the best of times; there was no telling how news like this would affect him. When he had learnt of his brother's disappearance his reaction had been one of indifference; when it had become clearer that his brother had been killed Sirius had barely batted an eyelid. Yet both Lily and James knew Sirius better than to take this as an accurate indication of how the news had affected him, and that it was only a matter of time before his behaviour became volatile.

"Dumbledore has arranged to meet with him this morning to pass on the news…"

"I should be there," James said without hesitation, moving swiftly to the corridor to collect his coat.

"I came earlier thinking as much," Frank said with a small smile to Lily.

With that smile something suddenly occurred to her. "What about tonight? Will he really be in the mood to celebrate Halloween?"

James' mind worked fast and he answered, "We'll have it at Moony's instead. It's more convenient for him. I'll take Sirius for a drink somewhere and then we'll meet you there."

"Alright," Lily acquiesced and James could clearly hear the slight disappointment in her voice. After pulling on his coat and collecting some parchments from the table he pulled Lily towards him and said, kissing her, "There's always next year."

Lily nodded, rebuking herself for her slight selfishness and, after telling Frank that he and Alice should expect a visit very soon, she watched from the window as Frank and James walked beyond the garden gate before Apparating with a swollen CRACK!

Lily pressed the buzzer and waited. It was very dark – the clocks had gone back a few days before and now it became much darker, much earlier. Flickering lights illuminated the gruesome faces carved into pumpkins that were placed in windows and on doorsteps. Crepe paper bats and spray cobwebs decorated many doorways. Although not this one, Lily noted as she waited a few moments and then pressed the buzzer again.

"No Trick or Treaters!" a cantankerous voice shouted from the other side before succumbing to what sounded like a terrible smoker's cough.

"Excuse me?" Lily called, watching as a light was turned on and a shadow appeared beyond the door.

"I said you'll get nothing out of me! And if you don't sod off then I'll call the police!"

"I'm sorry I think you've misunderstood…I'm here to see Mr Lupin…?"

There was a pause, almost as though the man did not quite believe her, before the door was opened. The man was small and surly looking with grey hair, and breath that smelt like cigarettes.

Lily climbed the steps and thanked him. As he allowed her to pass she could feel his lecherous gaze follow her. He locked the door behind her.

"I'm sorry about that," he wheezed. "Can't be too careful these days."

"No, I suppose not…" Lily trailed off, feeling increasingly uncomfortable with the way he was examining her. "Well, I better get going."

"You have a good night," he said and Lily felt the way he watched her as she made her way up the stairs.

Reaching Remus' door Lily smiled to herself as she knocked, hearing the melancholic refrain of a saxophone sounding from the jazz record that was being played loudly. As she had knocked the volume was turned down and there was the sound of approaching footsteps on the other side and a very flushed, flustered Remus Lupin answered the door.

"I'm so sorry, Lily. I didn't hear the door ring," he apologised, ushering her into his living room. Although it was what many would describe as pokey Lily liked Remus' flat very much. Everything about it was unassuming: the rather worn rugs that covered the floor, the two-seater sofa and arm chair with wooden armrests, the green tiled fireplace, the wicker chair beneath the square window. The table was set with mismatched china and it seemed that Remus had struggled to fit all the chairs he needed around it.

As Remus moved back to the kitchenette he stumbled over one of these chairs and Lily rushed forward to help him to his feet. He laughed as he righted himself and, as though he had suddenly remembered his manners, he enfolded Lily into his arms and squeezed her tightly as he said with genuine warmth, "It's good to see you, Lily."

Lily's face was pushed into Remus' shoulder and for the briefest of moments she allowed herself the indulgence of inhaling. Something about Remus' presence had always been so comforting. The smell of his clothes, the strength of his hold around her waist was reassuring. Something was bubbling away on the stove, a woman with a deep, soulful voice was singing on the record. As Lily drew back she laughed at the smudge of flour on Remus' nose. He raised his fingers to his nose and laughed too and as he pulled away, turning to examine it in the reflective surface of the toaster, Lily felt a sudden rush of guilt at the emptiness she suddenly felt with his arms no longer around her.

It was always harmless, Lily thought to herself. Something she had felt once, long ago, and now only lingered in moments of unguarded tenderness. She felt she and Remus had an understanding, similar to the understanding shared by Sirius and James. This understanding was almost second nature, something that had almost happened without anyone realising, naturally arising when two people meet who are alike in so many ways. It was this very likeness that made Lily realise that likeness was never enough on it's own, and that it was opposition, a challenge which had ultimately drawn them to others and away from each other.

"Your landlord isn't very pleasant," Lily remarked as she walked over to the record player, untying her scarf and picking up the sleeve of what was playing.

"Old Archie? Yeah, I don't suppose many people would think so. But he's a useful sort of landlord to have: doesn't ask too many questions as long as I pay the rent on time."

"You don't mind these last minute changes, do you?" Lily asked as she watched Remus check on whatever it was cooking in the oven.

"No, I don't mind." He dropped the oven glove on the side and turned to Lily before saying, "Considering the circumstances I think it's probably for the best."

There was a pause before Lily ventured, "Has he spoken to you about it?"

"Me?" Remus asked, and Lily couldn't help but notice the slight incredulity with which he said this. "No."

"Did you even know his father was ill?"

Remus shook his head. "He never mentioned it. He doesn't speak about things like that to me…" Remus looked sad as he flicked the gas of the hob off with a wave of his wand and finished, "Not anymore."

Lily was surprised. Remus had always had a knack with Sirius: for placating him, for making him see reason, for drawing things out of him that he'd usually rather not say. Of course, Remus could have that affect on many people but with Sirius it had always seemed different. Sirius needed soothing and during the times when he would shut the world out completely he seemed to allow Remus in. Even when they had been teenagers at school and Lily had not really been good friends with the Marauders she had noticed it: Remus' knack for intervention, the way he could draw Sirius' attention away from whatever it was that was bothering him and towards himself. Other people had noticed it too. There had been rumours, snide remarks: what exactly was going between Sirius Black and that weird Lupin boy?

Lily had never listened, only half believed, yet as she had grown to know them better she had glimpsed something between them that couldn't comfortably be confined to the realms of friendship. She had never raised the issue with James, who seemed completely oblivious to the tension that existed between his two friends. But she saw it now as Remus looked down at the rug beneath his feet. She heard it in the sadness concealed behind his voice.

"I think James was going to take him to the Leaky Cauldron for a few drinks. They shouldn't be too long…" Lily began to explain although Remus smiled, knowing she was less than convinced. "Hopefully."

"Well, I've still go a lot to do here. And I'd be really grateful if you could help me." Lily nodded enthusiastically and rolled up her sleeves. "And…to help us along…" Remus' head disappeared into a cupboard and he reappeared with two glasses and a bottle of red wine. "What do you say?"

"Why not?" Lily said with a shrug and a smile and as they clinked glasses she said, "Happy Halloween Moony."

_Reviews and comments are very welcome. I am always eager to know what you think :)_


	8. Chapter 8

_A/N: I hope to have quick updates over the next few days as a celebration for Halloween. Thank you SomethingBorrowed, my one faithful and lonesome reviewer. I'm glad you enjoyed that last chapter. I'm sure you'll enjoy the chapter after this even more :)_

_If you are reading let me know what you think. It would be great to get some feedback from you all._

_Thank you to Megan and SomethingBorrowed._

**We return to Snape's perspective and the Dark Lord has a plan that will test Snape's loyalties.**

* * *

It had been two weeks since the murder of the Prewett's and since then nothing else of any great importance had been achieved. The Dark Lord had grown increasingly restless and had directed his impatience towards his followers. Lucius Malfoy had been punished for his failure to recruit important Ministry officials to the cause. Amycus Carrow had been temporarily ostracised from the Death Eaters for an ineffective Imperius Curse cast on an influential Muggle civil servant, who had then gone on to report the incident to the Muggle police. Even Bellatrix, who prided herself on being the most ardent of the Dark Lord's followers, had incurred his wrath for her overzealous use of the Cruciatus Curse, forgetting her main objectives and allowing Edgar Bones to escape.

Snape, however, had managed to avoid the Dark Lord's displeasure. Of course, he had been called on less and less of late: he had been included less in the Dark Lord's plans. But it would seem that that was about to change and as All Hallows Eve fell, the light slipping from the sky and the ground freezing over, Snape was called into the Dark Lord's presence to receive his instructions.

"My Lord." Snape kneeled, his robes sweeping the floor. With a gesture of the hand Voldemort bid him to rise. It was most unusual to find him alone, Snape considered, barely suppressing a shudder as he watched Nagini slither over the floor and to curl up on the rug before the fireplace. But someone had just left the room. Voldemort had dismissed the sentry by the door when they had arrived and, as Snape had descended the staircase on having been told by Karkarof that his presence had been requested, he had heard the front door open and close before someone Apparated away.

Voldemort was standing before the fireplace. The photos of the house's previous Muggle inhabitants were turned to face the wall on the mantelpiece. Perhaps even the Dark Lord found their desperate gazes, now confined to the family snap shots that had been taken years ago, too poignant. Tonight was the night that the veil between the living and the dead was at it's thinnest, although the traditions usually observed had been forgotten. There would be no incantations, no spells said for the dead. The Dark Lord had forbidden the usual customs. Some of the Death Eater's had objected, superstitious that it was dangerous to not observe the rituals. But the Dark Lord had been adamant and Snape found it interesting to consider that it was maybe out of fear that he refused acknowledge the dead.

"Tell me," Voldemort began very slowly as Snape entered, his piercing red eyes fixing on Snape. "What is being said about the spy?"

Snape struggled not to blink, taken aback by the question. He had not been expecting it. Of course it had been reckless to assume that the Dark Lord would not be aware of the curious whispers; that he would have not observed those things that had been glimpsed by his followers but he himself had yet to explain.

He paused for too long. It would now be useless to lie and Snape cleared his throat before beginning "All I have heard is that you may have been approached by someone offering information…someone from the other side…"

A twisted smile that was more like a grimace spread across Voldemort's face. For the first time the thought occurred to Snape that perhaps it had been the Dark Lord's intention to deliberately conceal this, using it to discover divisions amongst his own followers, to discern those who were truly faithful from those whose only interest lay in self-preservation.

"And tell me, Severus," Voldemort hissed, a command rather than a request. "Who do they say the spy is?"

He held Snape's gaze intensely. "I have not heard anyone voice their suspicions in that respect, my Lord."

Voldemort seemed satisfied with this response and, as he seated himself, he extended his hand to offer Snape the seat opposite. For the briefest of moments Snape hesitated, unused to such gestures. But knowing it was best to comply he smoothed down his robes behind him before sitting down.

"Things have not been going to Owell of late. Despite my best intentions it seems I can not plan for the incompetence of those who serve me…" Voldemort paused and Snape watched the way he leant down to absent-mindedly pet Nagini like a dog. "The time has come for a new strategy."

"And you wish for my service, my Lord?" Snape ventured.

Voldemort gave a slight nod of the head. "You are young," he reflected, his eyes searching Snape's face as though he was beginning to doubt his choice.

"If you will permit me…" Snape began, interpreting Voldemort's silence as permission to continue. "I cannot deny my youth, my Lord, but youth is not indicative of experience. If you were to place me in a position where I could prove myself I would not fail you."

"Then your time has arrived, Severus," Voldemort eventually spoke again. "And I hope, very much, that you will not disappoint me as so many others have."

"I shall endeavour to deserve this great honour…" Snape had begun to reply but, with a raise of a hand, Voldemort silenced him.

"The Order has grown more determined these past weeks. It would seem that the losses they have incurred have only strengthened their resolve. If those who have fallen are so quickly forgotten then death is no longer our most useful weapon against them." Voldemort paused and Snape continued to listen carefully. "Division, however, is still crucial; and there are those in the Order who would be of great use to our cause if they could be convinced to join us."

There was nothing new about this plan, Snape thought to himself, careful to obscure these thoughts from his Master's penetrating mind. Many of the powerful and influential witches and wizards who were members of the Order of the Phoenix had been approached at one time or another with such an offer; some had accepted but most had declined.

"This time refusal will not be an option," Voldemort stressed firmly. "There will be no choice. I have been assured that there is one member of the Order to whom we should turn our attention who, if targeted, could cause the unity that has proved so problematic to us to disintegrate."

"This is why I have called on you, Severus. I need your help to get Lily Potter."

The name came as a shock, an unwelcome intrusion to a world that Snape had so stringently attempted to keep her memory apart from. He had waited patiently for the Dark Lord to call on him so he could make his contribution to the cause. He had watched others fail before him knowing that if he were to be given the chance he would not suffer the same fate. But now that certainty was to be tested. With the mention of that name Snape realised that his loyalties were divided: split between one woman and a man he had, until now, unquestioningly followed. But it was useless, of course he knew that. As the Dark Lord had said there was to be no choice.

He had concealed these thoughts as best he could and he struggled to keep his voice impassive as he asked, smoothly, "What is to be done?"

"It has been arranged that on Wednesday next week she will travel alone to Diagon Alley. There, you and a select few will detain her and bring her to me. There will be no mistakes. She will not escape. And then we shall simply wait for the Order to come to us."

"She will not be persuaded to join us," Snape said without thinking. Voldemort's mouth twitched and Snape quickly recovered, "She is a headstrong, obstinate witch. She may not be convinced…"

"It is of little importance to me whether she be convinced or not. Her imprisonment will lead others to me, others that may be converted or dispatched. It will also prove to me, Severus, whether or not you can be trusted."

"My Lord?" Snape questioned, realising for the first time that this was to be a test of his loyalty more than his capability.

"You are diligent and quick-minded but you conceal too much from me." Voldemort's eyes flashed dangerously and his grip tightened on the armrests of his chair. "There are to be no more secrets. You shall prove yourself. I have glimpsed moments of brilliance but there are times I sense resistance. I will not tolerate defiance. You will submit now to my plan to kidnap Lily Potter. You shall bring her to me and it shall be your responsibility to break her. This is your chance, Severus, to free yourself completely from your past. This is the only opportunity I give you to rise or fall." His voice was more controlled though his eyes remained aflame as he stressed finally, "We are each masters of our own destinies, Severus. This is your chance to forge yours."

_Reviews would be very much appreciated xxx_


	9. Chapter 9

_A/N: That's what I like to see! More reviews. Thank you for them all. They are truly appreciated. As promised here is another swift update: the last of the chapters set on Halloween. I hope you all have a great Halloween, whatever you do, and enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it._

_This one is dedicated to SomethingBorrowed, my faithful number one fan!_

_A big thank you to Megan for putting up with my craziness!_

**We return to Lily's perspective. The night draws on and still there are no signs of James and Sirius. ****Will Lily confide to Remus all that has been worrying her?**

It had been two hours since Remus and Lily had decided that they had waited long enough and had eaten the meal that Remus had prepared. He had apologised for what he had described as a mediocre dinner, and Lily had assured him that it was just as nice as anything she would have cooked. The washing up had been done and the clean crockery put away. James and Sirius' meals were left warm in the oven. Together they had re-set the table for the Halloween ritual: the three candles, the silver dish suspended on a chain over what was to be a blue-flamed fire, the set of short, grey glasses carved with runes, the silver pitcher. They had sat down on the sofa side by side and talked. Now it was half past ten and the second bottle of wine had been opened. It had grown darker and Remus had pulled the blinds. It had grown colder and the fire had been lit. At first Lily had felt uptight, nervously eyeing the clock, growing apprehensive as more time elapsed and there was no sign of Sirius or James. But as the evening had gone on she had found it impossible not to relax. The heat of the fire, the mellowness of the wine, the softness of the music were all comforting; cradling her glass Lily allowed herself to rest back.

Remus had been quiet for some time but Lily did not find this silence uncomfortable. He was thinking she realised, turning her head slightly to observe him better. His amber eyes were fixed on no-where in particular; he was lost deep in thought and Lily appreciated the opportunity to watch him freely. However, after a few moments he seemed to feel her gaze upon him and he turned his attention towards her. Neither of them spoke and Lily watched the way he struggled to smile. Without thinking Lily placed her hand upon Remus' where it rested on the sofa beside her and, giving it a reassuring squeeze, she said, "We all have our secrets, Remus."

"Some more than others," Remus said, not moving his hand away.

"Are you talking about your lycanthropy?" Lily asked.

"No, no." Remus shook his head and a small smile crept across his face. "I'm no longer ashamed of that as much as I once was. It's a part of me Lily, as you pointed out so many years ago. I can't deny that." Remus paused before continuing, "I was just thinking that perhaps if there were fewer secrets between us all then maybe Sirius and James would have been home long ago."

Lily nodded, unable to deny this and, staring into the fire, she withdrew her hand from Remus'. "Sometimes," she began slowly, quietly. "Sometimes it is hard to share things we would rather conceal from those who mean so much to us…"

Something about Lily's tone made Remus concerned and he twisted round to face her as he asked, "What do you have to conceal?"

Lily felt unable to look away from Remus' eyes as she confessed in a voice barely above a whisper, "That I'm not a good person."

For a moment it looked as though Remus was going to laugh. "What makes you say that? Of course you're a good person…"

"Perhaps. But perhaps I'm not the person that I once thought I was."

"Tell me what's on your mind," Remus pleaded.

Lily laughed and shook her head, placing her empty wine glass down on the floor. "I sometimes feel," Lily began after her laughter had subsided, "I sometimes feel as though I have forgotten myself: that I'm simply the wife of James Potter…Lily Potter. I'm not sure I even remember who Lily Evans was anymore…

But I can't forget. Lily Evans was ever so slightly different to who I am now. There were others; that's why things have changed. There were other men before James." She saw Remus' gaze waver, sensed his slight discomfort, but she was too tipsy now to check herself and she continued on regardless. "There still are…"

"But you _do_ love James, Lily," Remus stressed. "I _know_ you do."

"Of course I love him. I shall love him until the day I die. I meant the vows I made on my wedding day. But…" Lily trailed off.

"But?" Remus questioned tentatively.

"Is it enough?" Lily asked seriously. Remus' face was solemn, his eyes were dark as he was silently processing all that Lily was saying, struggling to find the words to reassure her. "There are things that haunt me, Remus. If things had been different…"

"But they're not. You can't torture yourself with things that might have been."

Lily could feel the tears springing to her eyes and she tried to restrain them as she continued with an emphatic shake of the head, "But I could have helped him. I know I could have. He would have listened to me."

She hadn't meant to confide these things to Remus, but now she was speaking she was glad that she was. Remus was intuitive and perceptive and she knew he would know of whom they were speaking. He moved closer to her on the sofa and taking both her hands into his he squeezed them tightly before saying, somewhat desperately, "It wasn't your place to save him, Lily."

Lily nodded, recognising the truth of what Remus was saying, but unable to stop herself from crying nonetheless. It was the alcohol. She cursed herself for drinking too much; it left her feeling vulnerable and exposed. She stared fixedly down at her hand pressed between Remus', and her eyes followed Remus' hand as he raised it and pressed it to her cheek. Under that pressure Lily's eye fluttered closed. After taking a deep breath to calm herself she reopened them, feeling the tender touch of Remus' thumb as he wiped her tears away.

"But I could have lov…" Lily had begun to say but at that moment they were interrupted by a loud thudding on Remus' front door. Lily's first instinct had to been to jump away from Remus, feeling guiltier for the things she had confided to him than the reassurance she had discerned from his touch. But Remus had prevented her; he had slowly withdrawn his hand and, reaching inside his pocket, produced a handkerchief for her to take.

"It will be them," Remus said as he stood. Lily wiped her eyes. "Are you ready?" With that question Lily knew that Remus would not reveal to anyone what they had spoken about that night: that it would remain between them. Lily nodded and she watched as Remus crossed the room and opened the door.

Sirius burst in, surprisingly unsupported by James who followed, closing the door behind them. "I'm sorry we're so late," James said, directing this more to Lily than to Remus.

"Do you want something to eat?" Remus asked tensely, watching as Sirius stumbled over to the table and, on plonking himself down on the first seat he came to, announced with a wave of a hand, "Never mind all that now, Moony. Let's just get it over with!"

"Perhaps you should have something to drink?" Remus asked.

"Yeah, that's not a bad idea!" James said as he sat down at the table beside his friend. "Something to sober you up, Padfoot?"

"Look, just stop bloody mothering me!" Lily joined them at the table and Sirius' intense grey eyes met hers and she looked away uncomfortably as he said, "I'm old enough to look after myself!"

After turning out all the lights in the flat Remus finally sat down; James had lit the three candles and Sirius, after trying and failing twice to perform such complicated magic whilst intoxicated, had eventually managed to light the blue fire beneath the suspended silver plate. Lily looked from face to face of those gathered around the table, bathed in eerie blue light. Remus began to pass around the grey glasses, one to each person before placing the silver pitcher before Lily.

"Would you do the honours?" Remus asked.

Lily nodded and placing her hands around the pitcher she very carefully began to recite the Samhain spell. The words came out as a whisper and with that hush of breath the flames of the candles that had been lit flickered and died. The tendrils of grey smoke floated upwards momentarily before joining and plummeting downwards, pooling into the silver dish. As the incantation ended Lily watched as the silver pitcher, which had been previously been empty, fill with a silvery-blue liquid that cast iridescent shadows across the ceiling. She nodded to Remus when she had finished and he reached across the table to fill everyone's glass from the pitcher. Silence descended.

"Well," Remus said. "Who would like to go first?"

"I'll go," James said without hesitation and rising to his feet with his glass in one hand he cleared his throat before beginning, "To mum and dad!" he toasted with a smile to the ceiling. "Until we meet again!" and as he said this he leant across the table and poured the contents of his glass into the dish. There was a hiss as the liquid heated. Smoke rose and slowly cleared to reveal the faces of James' parents, smiling and waving, before the images disappeared gently into the air.

Remus didn't wait for further volunteers and he stood with his glass and said softly, "To my mother and father; may they rest in peace. I am honoured to have ever known them." He reached across the table and emptied the contents of the glass into the dish. Again there was a cloud of smoke and Lily saw Remus' parents sitting in a garden, smiling and pointing to where Remus had just sat down.

Lily looked to where James was sitting and saw that he was watching her, waiting for her to stand. After hesitating for a moment she took the glass and moved to stand but was interrupted by Sirius who suddenly stood up with such speed he knocked the chair over behind him.

"Careful Padfoot," James chided, reaching down to straighten the chair. But Sirius was not listening, his glass was clenched tightly in his fist and his eyes were fixed on the space where the faces would appear as he spat venomously, "To the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black! To the blood traitors, the bastards, the murders and conspirators. To my father, Orion Black: revered my none and despised by many. To my darling little brother, Regulus, who made his parents so proud by persecuting and torturing all those not fit to breathe the same air as they did. And now…" Sirius paused in his speech, pouring the liquid into the dish and regarding with distain the twisted shapes of his relatives that appeared within the smoke. "They breathe no more."

He collapsed back into his chair, his face wretched, twisted by the wavering blue light. Remus sat staring at Sirius, trying to catch his hair but Sirius simply sat staring bitterly down at the table, his shoulders rising and falling as he struggled to remain composed. James looked to Lily again and, taking this as her cue, she slowly rose to her feet.

"To my mother, who I loved very dearly and lost not long ago." Her voice seemed so small compared to Sirius' and this startling contrast made him look up from the table and watch the woman before him. "To….to my father, who I lost when I was too young and who I have missed very much." Lily's voice had wavered but she refused to meet James' eyes as she ended, "And to all those we have lost in our fight against Voldemort. You were our comrades, our colleagues and friends. We drink to you all." The silver liquid hit the dish and smoke rose and all that were gathered could make out the faces of members of the Order they had lost. Lily saw her mother standing at the sink in their house in the red-bricked terrace; saw her father sitting at the kitchen table reading a paper. He looked up and smiled and, calling to her mother, Lily watched as she turned and smiled too. Then the smoke gave its last exhalation and faded; the blue-flamed fire was extinguished, leaving all of them sitting in the dark.

_Happy Halloween everybody! Let me know what you think :) _


	10. Chapter 10

_A/N: Well hello to you my readers. It has been far too long since I updated this story but I promise you I haven't forgotten and always intend to finish something when I start it. Writing my story "Felix Felicis" provided me with creative energy to go back to this. I hope you all will continue to stick with this and enjoy it._

_Thank you to my beta Megan who always makes me laugh, Loki's Symphony for his encouragement and Tristan for his support._

_Also thank you to SomethingBorrowed who has been the most faithful reader of mine since WYIN._

_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or the stories Rowling creates. I merely intend to plug the gaps. No need to sue._

**Lily receives a letter that prompts a visit to Diagon Alley. Meanwhile, Snape attempts to come to terms with the terrible task with which he has been charged whilst concealing his true thoughts from the Dark Lord.**

* * *

Lily had been adamant on receiving the letter; she was going to go to Diagon Alley and go alone.

"But Lily..." James had attempted to reason, looking to Frank and Arthur for support. A number of the Order had gone for tea at the Burrow and James saw this as the perfect opportunity to attempt to reason with his wife. "You can't be so impulsive. It's not safe to travel so far alone." Frank shrugged dismissively, eager to not be involved, and continued to read his copy of the _Daily Prophet_. James turned his attention to Arthur and stressed, "Arthur you agree with me, don't you? It's just not..." James struggled to find the right word before finally settling on "safe."

Arthur looked from the face of Lily, who seemed in absolutely no mood to be lectured, to Molly, who was attempting and failing to get Percy to eat something that was mushy and green. "Don't look at me dear," Molly warned, raising her eyebrows and concentrating on getting the spoon inside her reluctant son's mouth.

Realising he was going to have to speak sooner or later, Arthur carefully began, "Well things are different now, I'll admit..." Lily prepared herself to answer back but hesitated when she saw Arthur look at James and say, "...But I can't see the harm in it really."

"See!" Lily said, pleased with her victory and shared a conspiratorial smile with Molly. James looked flabbergasted and was reluctant to accept Lily's embrace as she snaked her arms about his waist. "You're over-reacting...as usual. I'll be fine."

"But Arthur..."James persisted, manoeuvring away from Lily's grasp. "Be reasonable. You can't honestly say you'd be happy to let Molly go to London on her own?"

"Given my current condition," Molly said, lifting Percy out of his high chair and placing him over her shoulder, "It is not entirely the same thing, is it, James?"

Lily glanced at Molly's swollen stomach and suppressed a shiver before continuing, "Exactly! And I have to go James, don't you see?" James crooked an eyebrow before slumping into a low, squidgy armchair. Lily knew James was suspicious. It had been months since Lily had heard from her school friend, Mary Macdonald. The war had a habit of getting in the way of friendships and causing people to forget what was really important. Yet when Lily had received an Owl two days ago from her old friend asking if she would like to meet and catch up she found she had something to look forward to, something to take her mind off of the terrible things that had been happening of late.

Lily knew that James understood; that he realised how to her going to meet Mary was more than just about getting out of the house. As he sat, pinching the skin between his eyes in the habit he had when thinking, she already knew he was relenting. And it didn't take much more for him to agree when a kindly, grey old wizard named Elphias Doge piped up from his seat at the table, "That's a headstrong girl you've got yourself there, Potter. I don't think she's going to take no for an answer..."

"Fine!" James eventually conceded with a weary sigh, prompting Lily to fling her arms around her husband's shoulders and to squeeze him hard. On drawing back she could see that she had knocked his glasses and as he straightened them he reasoned, "Sirius and I have some business at the Ministry that day...questions about his brother's disappearance..." Elphias Doge rearranged his hat nervously. Frank's eyes appeared from over the top his newspaper. "All routine, of course. I promised I'd go with him...and we have been putting it off so we'll come to London with you and meet afterwards." Lily agreed, watching James' face carefully before she was interrupted in her observations by a boisterous Bill bounding into the room, eager to show everyone the garden gnome he had caught and was now waving around by one leg.

It was a quieter evening for the Order. There had not been very much official business to discuss; Dumbledore was away, Sirius had been noticeably absent in the days following his brother's assumed death and Remus was still recovering from his monthly transformations. Peter had come down with something to – no-one had seen him for a week – and Molly told of how the soup she had tried to owl him had been returned untouched. Alice had not been sleeping well, Frank had explained when he had turned up alone, on accounts of worrying about their unborn child. The McKinnons had attempted to attend but had kept away due to their suspicions that someone was watching the house.

In truth, the Order's number was dwindling; Benjy Fenwick and the Prewetts were all dead. Caradoc Dearborn had been missing for over two months and still no trace of him had been found. As James and Lily left that night, and she turned to wave at Molly and Arthur who were watching them go from the doorway - and to the red-haired, rosy-cheeked boys who were watching them from the window upstairs - she couldn't help but doubt that this was a war they could win.

"Is Sirius okay?" Lily asked as they walked along the orchard. It was a cold, silent evening with a hint of dusk still lingering on the flame-tinged horizon. "He didn't seem quite like himself on Halloween, did he?"

James stopped walking and thrust his hands inside his pockets. "I don't know. One minute he's fine, determined to fight, to get on with things and the next..." He shrugged before ending helplessly, "We've never really spoken about our feelings, though."

"What about Remus?" Lily broached tentatively, uncertain of whether or not James had ever truly seen the nature of Remus and Sirius' friendship. "He's always had a way of getting through to him. Surely if..."

James shook his head. "They're not exactly seeing eye to eye at the moment. Something about Regulus' disappearance I think. Moony knows he's not been handling it too well but if Sirius doesn't want to talk about it then no-one can make him." James reached out of his pockets and took Lily's hands and together they apparated out of the orchard. They soon reappeared again outside their house in Godric's Hollow. A pool of yellow light welcomed them through the glass in the front door. Lily often insisted that they left on the hallway light when no-one was home, something which amused James greatly as a stupid, Muggle superstition. However, Lily was often glad of it when they came home and the warmth of the house welcomed them.

"And all this stuff at the Ministry?" Lily asked, taking off her coat and scarf and following James into the kitchen. He flicked on the stove and set the kettle to boil with his wand before turning and replying, "Like I said I'm assuming it's just routine. No-one really knows what happened with Regulus..." The jars twisted open and the tea bags floated gently into the bone china cups. "...They have to pursue every line of inquiry. Sirius is just one of those." As Lily watched James pour the milk she was unconvinced - in times of such uncertainty and suspicion they all had to be careful. However routine such an interview may first appear they had to be careful. It was becoming increasingly difficult to be open and honest in the Wizarding community outside of the Order. And Lily accepted this was probably the reasoning behind James' reluctance to allow her to travel to Diagon Alley by herself to meet her old friend.

"I tell you what," Lily said, taking the tea spoon from him. "I'll finish this and you go and sit down." She placed a kiss on his cheek and smiled as she said, "We've spoken enough about this for tonight."

James smiled and left the room, and from the living-room beyond Lily heard him tune into the Wizarding Wireless Network and imagined him kicking off his shoes and putting his feet on the coffee table. Finishing the tea Lily moved over to the fireplace, collecting the pile of letters that were stacked there and flicking through them until she found the one from Mary. James had made her paranoid, Lily thought to herself, as she re-read the letter for the tenth time. There was nothing suspect about it. It sounded like Mary, talking about the Muggle doctor she had met and was planning to move with to Plymouth. She was determined to enjoy herself and, bumping the living-room door open with her hip, Lily carried the tea into where James was waiting, snoring softly with his glasses slipping down his nose.

* * *

In the first hours of dusk Snape wandered the garden. The sun still cast a ferocious orange glow across the lawn and as Snape turned to regard the house he had just left – another day, another house, another family disposed of – and he was met with the glare of the light that rebounded off the windows. It was a crisp night in the first days of November. His breath froze on the air. As he walked down the path he could hear the sounds of excited voices coming from next door's garden. He paused, his eyes quickly discerning a gap in the fence where he could watch, unobserved, as a tall man with a blonde beard piled a bonfire high.

"Can we light it yet, dad?" a boy about twelve in a red coat asked. He clutched the hand of a girl who could not have been more than four years old, with rosy cheeks and tight brown curls tucked under a hat.

"Almost," the dad replied, taking a step back to admire his handiwork.

Snape finally recalled the term he had been struggling to remember; Bonfire Night. That would explain the fires and the fireworks and the brightly-coloured explosions that had been filling the sky. An odd Muggle tradition he had never completely understood.

"But I don't understand," he remembered himself asking, staring into the dead, button eyes of a man whose face had been drawn on aggressively with a marker pen. He was young and he was standing in her garden, holding something she had called a "Sparkler" in one hand. "You burn that..._thing_? Why?"

Lily shrugged and took a bite out of her sausage. "He's supposed to represent Guy Fawkes. He tried to blow up Parliament, well _our _Parliament, hundreds of years ago. So we burn him to celebrate the fact that he didn't."

"It doesn't make sense," Snape had said, staring as the flames licked at the face, warping it, distorting it before engulfing it completely.

It was then that Snape was drawn out of his reflection, the hissing flames of his memory replaced with the whisper of a cloak over the leaves. He turned to see the Dark Lord approaching, his hood raised, his hands concealed beneath the folds of fabric. Snape greeted him with a low bow and banished the indulgence of his memories from his mind.

"Ah, Severus," Voldemort raised one skeletal hand to indicate that Snape could rise. "Here you are...seeking solitude in the garden." Although his eyes were bathed in shadow Snape could feel them upon him, questioning. Seclusion was a forbidden pleasure that automatically drew suspicion. Voldemort turned his head to see the scene that Snape had been surveying and he caught the sneer of derision that twisted his Master's cruel mouth before he asked, "Becoming sentimental?"

"Merely intrigued," Snape responded cooly as he attempted to conceal his true thoughts. "Muggles never fail to amaze me with their superstitions and futile traditions."

"You are uncertain," Voldemort articulated slowly, turning his face slightly towards Snape. His cheeks were sunken and hollow, his skin stretched across his face like some hideous, waxen mask. His mouth was a cruel, black slit - a snakelike glistening tongue flickered within. Snape struggled to suppress his repulsion. "And it is this that makes you weak..." His voice trailed off and Snape's skin prickled uncomfortably as he watched Voldemort reach into his robes and withdraw his wand. He caressed it in his hands. "Weakness is not option." Snape watched as Voldemort raised his wand and aimed it at the young girl in the garden beyond, who was kicking through the leaves.

"I may have some things still to learn, my Lord, but my loyalty to you is unquestionable." Snape spoke quickly, ardently, eager to deflect Voldemort's attention away from his intended prey. "I have yet to fail you."

Voldemort considered these words carefully before he lowered his wand. He turned to Snape and conceded, "Yes...unlike so many others you have remained true to the cause, with no thoughts for your own position. You have borne the derision of those who consider themselves above you with patience. It is one of the qualities I have come to value most." Here Voldemort paused before hissing darkly, "However, I mistrust it. You're aloofness distances you, holds you back from true subservience. Independence of will is unacceptable."

"M...my Lord, if you will permit me....?" Snape struggled to keep his voice neutral; a barely contained stammer permeated his words and drew a triumphant smile from Voldemort. He did not speak and Snape took this as his cue to continue, "It is true that I distance myself from many of the others. Their pursuits and appetites are of little interest to me. And I think you will see that often it is the overzealous that fail to deliver results..."

Voldemort nodded his head in slight agreement before interrupting, raising one finger, "Ah, Severus, you fail to grasp that your enthusiasm is not what is in question." Here he paused and raising his hands he lowered his hood. The orange sunlight that had now all but vanished from the sky cast Voldemort's face in hideous shadows and has he turned his eyes towards Snape they were ablaze. Snape struggled to keep his mind clear as he felt the familiar sensation of Voldemort pulling his thoughts from him. "Tomorrow you shall travel to Diagon Alley alone. The Macdonald girl has been placed under the Imperious Curse and has arranged to meet the Potter witch at the Leaky Cauldron. You will bring Lily to me and dispose of the other. She is of little use to me." In the garden beyond the bonfire was lit and a thin, grey smoke snaked its way up into the air. Snape fixed his eyes on it, his mind quickly focusing on anything but the instructions he had just been given but a voice, insidious, seductive and ever-present in his mind broke his concentration with the hissed words "Impress me."

_

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Thank you for reading. Remember to leave feedback :) Updates to come soon.


	11. Chapter 11

_A/N: I hope that those of you who are reading this will remember to review. It really does mean a lot to know what you guys think._

_Thank you, as always, to Loki's Symphony, SomethingBorrowed, Tristan and Megan._

_Disclaimer: I don't own so don't sue._

**Lily travels to the Leaky Cauldron, unaware of the danger before her, and two worlds collide.**

* * *

The Leaky Cauldron was no longer the place it once had been. Lily remembered the first time she had been there with her parents after receiving her acceptance letter from Hogwarts.

"I can't see it," her mother had complained, peering at the spot between a book shop and a record shop where Snape had told Lily the tavern would be. Lily had to admit that there was nothing there; perhaps they had made a mistake? She had looked around at the people that bustled past her down the busy Charing Cross Road but no-one else seemed to take any notice, or see what she couldn't see.

"Has that Snape boy got it right?" her father, a tall, strong-faced man with red hair asked, smiling down at his daughter in confusion.

"I'm cold and I'm hungry" Petunia had complained, tugging on their mother's coat tails. "Let's just go!"

"Wait a minute!" Lily interrupted, spotting an unusual family crossing the road at the traffic lights. They were undoubtedly wizards, Lily thought to herself, trying to suppress a giggle at the ways they had obviously attempted to blend in with the Muggles. The witch, who was tall and lean, was wearing a long fur coat with a pair of bright red, Wellington boots. The wizard, who had a curly black moustache, was no less inconspicuous. He had a on a long, white lab coat and a Deerstalker hat. The short, round boy that was hurrying to keep up by their side looked suitably embarrassed.

"Excuse me? Excuse me?" Lily hurried over to them, ignoring Petunia's squeals for her to come back. The wizard halted in his tracks and looked down at Lily. "Erm...hi...we were just wondering," Lily waved her hands in her family's direction, "how we get to the Leaky Cauldron?"

The witch smiled. "Of course. Muggles, are you?" she asked inquisitively and Lily nodded. The man and woman pushed passed her and introduced themselves to her parents leaving Lily face to face with young boy.

"My name's Lily," she said with a smile.

"Peter Pettigrew," the boy replied, his piggy eyes darting around nervously, fixing on anything apart from Lily's face. It made her feel nervous.

"Dear lord! Lily! Come look at that," her father called and on turning round Lily watched as a squat, grubby pub seemed to push its way between the shops.

Lily remembered the times when the tavern had been fit to the bursting with magical people of all kinds. Muggleborns like herself on their first shopping trip to Diagon Alley, teenage wizards trying the latest temporary ageing potions in attempt to get served Firewhiskey or old, hook-nosed witches sitting alone by the fireplace and chattering incoherently to their toads. Now, as Lily pushed open the door, the place was virtually deserted. A figure shrouded in shadow, their hood raised, sat huddled in one corner. An old wizard wearing a monocle sat at a low, wooden table, pushing what appeared to be Cottage Pie unenthusiastically around his plate. The barman flashed Lily a gummy, friendly grin and as she approached he put down the glass he was cleaning and leant on the bar.

"Afternoon Tom," Lily said.

"Well, well, Lily Potter," Tom replied. "It's been a long time since we've seen you round these parts. I still remember your James' stag night." He chuckled to himself and Lily winced at the memory.

"Is Mary here yet?" Lily asked and Tom nodded, wiping his hands on the front of his trousers and walking round from the bar.

"Been here for about half an hour. She's waiting in the parlour for you." Tom led the way and Lily noticed as she exited the room that the wizard with the monocle had left.

Mary was sat with her back towards Lily in a low, bow-backed chair beside the fireside. Lily approached rapidly, eager to see her friend but as Tom closed the door behind them and Mary rose to her feet Lily was stunned at how physically altered she appeared. Her eyes were dull and lifeless; her once prettily plump mouth was drawn into a difficult smile. As Lily drew her into an embrace she could feel her friend's shoulders protruding through her blue jumper and as she sat down in the chair opposite her Lily couldn't help but noticed that her hands trembled slightly in her lap.

"It's...it's so good to see you," Mary said quietly. She flicked her blonde curls behind her ear in a gesture Lily vaguely recognised from the past. "I suppose you were surprised when you received the letter."

"A little," Lily conceded, carefully watching the vacant expression in her old friend's eyes. "But I was pleased to hear from you." As she spoke Lily rested her hands carefully on the arm rests of the chair, feeling the comforting outline of her wand concealed in her jacket pocket. Something wasn't right.

"No James?" Mary's eyes shifted apprehensively towards the door.

"He'll be here soon," Lily lied, knowing full well that it could be hours before Sirius' business was concluded at the Ministry. She was alone. There was a muffled noise from the bar beyond and a muted thud and Lily's heart raced inside her chest as she manoeuvred her hands slowly into her pockets to grasp her wand.

"I...haven't seen either of you since the wedding." Mary was very visibly shaking. Her eyes were fixed down at her hands as she struggled to bring them under control. Her top lip was twisting as though she was attempting to speak but something was forcing her against her will to remain silent. At that moment Lily realised – she recognised the signs that she had seen on so many people before. Mary was not acting of her own free will. She was being manipulated, controlled by someone else. Whoever that was had probably planned for Lily to be here alone and vulnerable. And she had fallen for it.

"Mary?" Lily asked in a rapid whisper, knowing now that in all probability that there wasn't a lot of time - that any minute now the Deatheaters would be here - that they were coming for her. "Mary, listen to me." Mary raised her eyes from her lap and Lily asked, "Are they coming for me?"

Mary made no response. Lily hadn't expected any but her silence spoke volumes and at once Lily was on her feet and running to the window. She drew her wand and with a cry of "Reducto" reduced the window to a pile of shattered glass and twisted lead. In one swift, movement she leapt onto the ledge, casting a quick glance to make sure that the courtyard that led to the entrance to Diagon Alley was clear. But before she could leap down and make her escape the door to the parlour blasted open, sending wood flying across the room.

"Lily!" Mary shrieked, darting across the room towards her, a curse hitting her squarely on the chest and sending her flying. Without hesitation Lily turned back into the room, scurrying across the floor towards where Mary was laying curled on the floor.

"Quickly! Lily yelled, attempting to heave her to her feet. "Come on!" But before she could stand she felt the presence of someone behind her and the sharp jab of a wand between her shoulders. Instantly Lily froze, keeping her eyes fixed firmly on Mary's face as she cowered, crying on the floor as she said defiantly, "If you've come for me then take me! Kill me! Just leave her alone!"

Her captor did not respond. The room filled with a deadly silence broken only by Mary's sobs and the sharp, shuddering breaths of whoever was behind her. Somewhere in the distance Lily heard the sound of a train pulling into Charing Cross station, rattling the remnants of glass in the window frame. Then eventually a voice, a voice that Lily knew so well, a voice that had haunted her and lingered on the fringe of her conscious mind and could still command her, broke the silence with the words, "Drop your wand."

For a moment Lily did not move. Her mind was working quickly to make sense of it all; of James' words of warning, of Mary's betrayal and of her childhood friend who was now standing behind her, his wand pressing threateningly into her back. Her hesitation resulted in his anger and he lowered his voice to a menacing whisper as he said, "I will not ask you again."

Raising her hands above her head in a gesture of submission, Lily eventually said, "It's in my pocket." As she spoke she felt a pair of firm hands grip her shoulders tightly and pull her brusquely to her feet. As soon as she was standing he parted the folds of her jacket and patted her down, locating her wand and removing it. He pulled her body sharply back against his, and she could feel his hot breath on the side of her face. She tried to twist herself around to face him. "Leave her. She doesn't matter."

"Quiet!" Snape bellowed, pulling Lily viciously backwards and away from where Mary was still hunched on the floor. Lily yelped as pain shot through her scalp as he gripped her hair and with great force dragged her away. She flailed her legs, twisted in his arms, dug her heels into the floor. But Snape was too strong yet he would not silence her and as he forced her away from Mary she said, "What are you going to do? Kill her? Are you a murderer now?"

Snape halted and with great fury thrust Lily to the floor. She tried to scramble to her feet but before she could get too far black ropes burst from Snape's wand and fastened themselves around Lily's wrists and ankles. Snape advanced towards her and gripping her face tightly between his fingers and thumb forced her to meet his eyes as he asked, "Aren't you frightened, Lily? I could take your life. Is this how you face death; unafraid?"

Lily pulled her head sharply away and said with a fury that shook her, "I'll never be afraid of you, Snape! Ever!"

Snape gave a merciless laugh and moved back. "Why? So certain that that husband of yours will save you? No-one will save you..." He turned his attention to Mary. "Either of you!"

"No! Snape! Please!" Lily found herself crying despite the resistance she felt in her heart. But it was too late. No words of reason would reach him now and Lily could only watch in fury and despair as Snape cried the words "Avada Kedavra!" and the light left Mary's eyes forever.

Lily's cries as the curse had left Snape's lips had shaken him and he turned round to watch consciousness leave her as her head lolled back onto the floor. In one, swift movement he had crossed the room and was by Lily's side, pushing her red hair from her face and pressing two fingers against the flesh of her neck to check for a pulse. The delicate thud-thud absolved him of his dread and quickly he crossed the room once more and, leaning out of the window and aiming his wand to sky, he uttered the words "Morsmordre". Green sparks burst up into the sky and formed a luminous skull that slowly opened its jaw to allow a writhing snake to twist its way through the clouds. From somewhere down below a woman screamed.

Without wasting time Snape gathered Lily into his arms, relishing the warmth of her body, realising how light and vulnerable she was. Then suddenly he froze, seized by a crippling doubt and regret as he cast his eyes to the lifeless form of Mary on the floor. What had had he done? How could he have killed her? She was defenceless, innocent. He might have allowed her to live. But he would have found out for certain – the Dark Lord would always know such things in the end. How could he have explained away empathy for someone who had been nothing more than a pawn in the greater game that lay before them? There had never been an option. He had no choice. And yet as he looked down into the face of the woman he held - a woman who's memory he had struggled to erase, to keep hidden from not only the Dark Lord but also from himself – Snape felt nauseated by the task that still lay before him. Could he really carry out the Dark Lord's instructions, even if that resulted in torture and death?

He had lingered too long, his doubt had been his downfall and he heard the sound of the tavern door bursting open and people rushing in. James and Sirius were at the doorway, breathless and red-faced, their eyes moving quickly from the Dark Mark in the sky beyond the window to the body of Mary on the floor. It was Sirius who recognised Snape first, saw that it was Lily lying motionless in his arms and threw out his arms just in time to stop his friend rushing into the room with his wand drawn.

James gave an other-worldly shriek. "You bastard!" He struggled against Sirius' attempts at restraint. "I'll kill you!"

The sounds of a familiar voice caused Lily to stir and he struggled to keep hold as she writhed in his grip, her head twisting in vain towards the doorway as she cried, "James! James, help me!"

Snape let out a growl of frustration. He now had no choice. Raising his hood and tightening his grasp on Lily he concentrated on the dark, cold room where he was taking her with the green flocked, wallpapered walls. The familiar pulling sensation tingled through his legs at first but quickly moved through the rest of his body. Lily felt it too and in one last desperate attempt to escape cried out for her husband once more. But it was no use. The faces of James and Sirius were swiftly dissolving before they disappeared completely, lost in a rush of light and noise.

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Remember to hit that review button :) Update to come soon!


	12. Chapter 12

_A/N: Thank you for those of you who are reading and taking the time to review. Hopefully my Muse will be with me for some time. I do have quite a good track record of finishing stories so I expect to see this through to the end so I'll be pleased if you could continue that journey with me._

_Thanks to SomethingBorrowed, Loki's Symphony, Tristan and Megan. _

_Disclaimer: I do not own the wonderful world of Harry Potter. I did, however, create this story._

**Lily dreams of the past before awakening to find herself in grave danger. **

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In her mind's eye Lily once again saw the frost covered graveyard where her father had been buried. It was Christmas Day. The sleet had been steadily falling since the night before. The edges of the pathway were pools of grey sludge. Everything in her memory was grey that day: the gravestones, the land, the sky, the chimneys that cast dark shadows over the landscape and the smoke they constantly breathed out; her mother's face, half obscured by the shadow of her black hat as she stared down at her feet; Petunia's eyes as they followed Lily move away from the funeral party to wait. The sleet made her hair frizzy and damp and Lily remembered feeling utterly ashamed of her red hair as she struggled to smooth it down, hiding it beneath her woolly hat. Everything _should_ have been grey that day.

At last she saw him, a dark shadow on the periphery of the scene, moving gradually closer. He had his hands shoved deeply in the pockets of his oversized coat and his nose peeped over the thick scarf her had wound around his neck.

"You came!" Lily remembered herself saying with genuine relief. "I wasn't sure whether or not…"

"I slipped out after breakfast," Snape had replied with a shrug of the shoulders. "They were too busy arguing to notice I'd gone."

Lily followed his black gaze to where Petunia was standing, one hand on her mother's shoulder before she said, very softly, "It's all over now. Nice service," she added as an afterthought, kicking the slush at her feet. "Hymns and prayers. Very Christian. Dad would have liked that."

He must have sensed the sadness in her voice and grown uncomfortable for he asked hurriedly, "Should you be getting back?"

"I don't want to go back just yet," Lily had abruptly replied before asking, "Can we walk for a bit?"

Snape had nodded and they had continued back down the path he had just journeyed down in silence. For the most Lily stared at her feet, at her pretty patent shoes which were becoming increasingly ruined, but every now and again she stole a glance at her companion who seemed to be doing his best to say anything at all. Very often she had chastised him for his solemnity, told him to "Cheer up, Sev!" Now she found his sombreness reassuring, realising for the first time that he was strong in ways she could never be.

He had caught her eyes then and all at once Lily felt angry, frightened, and a fragility she had, for whatever reason, always been so careful not to show him finally broke her. With a frustrated sob, she began to cry. Snape stopped walking and even though Lily looked away, pressing a hand to her mouth to stifle herself, she could feel his eyes still on her. He was watching her, fascinated, probably confused, she thought to herself; probably disappointed that she didn't show more self control.

But when she turned back to face him Snape's expression had softened, his eyes were wide with a concern Lily had never seen before. He took a step towards her and, for some peculiar reason, Lily felt as though she should shy away. Very gently Snape reached out and placed both hands on Lily's shoulders, keeping her firmly in place. His eyes had completely captured hers and as he squeezed her shoulders tightly, so tightly in fact she could feel his nails dig painfully into the skin beneath her layers of clothes, Snape said in a desperate, pleading tone, "Please don't cry, Lily."

As her eyes fluttered open Lily could feel the half-stifled sob dying on her lips. Her eyes were wet and her cheeks were stained with tears. She found that she was lying on a cold, wooden floor staring up at the ceiling of a room she didn't recognise. An ornate chandelier hung from a large ceiling rose but its decadence was diminished by layers of cobwebs and dust. It hurt to open her eyes and as she tried to move Lily at first assumed that she was just too stiff to sit up. The undulating light of a fire cast unstable shadows over the green, flocked walls. Very gradually Lily began to remember her journey to London, her meeting with Mary, the hooded man who sat alone in the corner of the bar. Then it was a blur, a jumble of images – the flash of a curse, the scream from the streets, the pain as her head hit the floor – which finally gave way to the face of James calling to her before it dissolved before her eyes.

Lily tried to sit up but realised that her wrists and ankles were still bound. She thrashed her body and beat her fists on the floor as she screamed, "Untie me! Untie me you cowards!"

The sound of footsteps across the room told Lily for the first time that she wasn't alone. She felt a pair of strong hands grip her shoulders and pull her sharply to her feet, spinning her around so she faced a man she knew well, with cold blue eyes and a permanent look of distain lacing his aristocratic features.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Lucius Malfoy drawled before pushing her unceremoniously backwards and down into a wooden chair.

"Just untie her, will you?!" a heavily accented voice snapped and Lily turned her head to see the large frame of Igor Karkaroff filling the doorway. "What can she do?"

Malfoy nodded and with a lazy flick of his wand vanished the cords that bound Lily into a wisp of smoke. No sooner had he done this than Lily had dived across the room towards him, forcing her whole weight against him and sending him crashing to the floor. Quickly she scrambled on top of him, pinning him down with her legs, pressing one hand perilously hard around his throat whilst the other grasped desperately for the wand he still held in one hand.

But it was no good – she was outnumbered – and she felt hands seize her quickly from all angles and drag her away. She watched Malfoy splutter, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he gasped for breath as Karkaroff and Evan Rosier held her fast.

"Awww!" a voice from behind her exuded and she felt a hand run playfully up her back before snaking into her hair and pulling it sharply back. "Kitty's got claws!"

"Get off me Bellatrix!" Lily cried, writhing against Bellatrix's violent caresses.

"As you wish..." Bellatrix hushed softly into her ear and she was released, falling heavily to the floor. Yet before she could turn and stand up to face her captors she heard Bellatrix cry "_Crucio!_" and Lily collapsed, twisting with a pain she had never felt before that tore at her insides and licked at her mind like fire. Even when the curse was over its presence still lingered, crippling her, leaving her powerless as she felt the sharp jolt of a foot in her side that caused her to roll onto her back and stare up into the face of her torturer.

Bellatrix's eyes were bright and brilliant, touched with mania, and her long black hair fell in front of her eyes as she leant down to examine with pleasure the look of pain on Lily's face.

"Enough?" she asked as she licked her lips and Lily whimpered, curling into a tight ball and closing her eyes as Bellatrix aimed her wand again at her and cooed, "Or does Kitty want to play some more?"

"Enough!" someone who had just entered shouted and Lily heard Bellatrix hiss in displeasure before saying, her voice high-pitched and incredulous, "You dare to order me, Snape?"

There was a brief silence and Lily heard footsteps approach and felt Bellatrix move away as Snape said, "The Dark Lord wishes to see her now." She felt someone reach down and scoop her up in their arms almost tenderly and carry her out of the room. As they passed down a long and narrow passageway Lily struggled to open her eyes, and as she did so caught a glimpse of Snape's stern and emotionless face.

"Severus..." she whimpered into his neck, her face buried into his hair, so ashamed of looking for reassurance and kind words from a man who had caused her pain; a man she couldn't trust.

"Be quiet," Snape whispered out of the corner of his mouth. "It will be alright." And even though Lily knew that this was probably a lie it gave her the glimmer of hope that she needed to fill her with courage as a cruel, haunting voice called from the room they were approaching, "Bring her to me."

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Thanks for reading. Remember to review. Update to come soon! :)


	13. Chapter 13

_A/N: Thank you to those who are reading and reviewing. I hope you continue to enjoy this story. I seem to be on a roll with this one at the moment and I'm ahead of myself with the writing so expect regular updates from now on._

_Thanks to Meg, SomethingBorrowed, Loki's Symphony and Tristan._

_Disclaimer: I don't own the Harry Potter and the world JK Rowling creates. But I do own this story._

**Lily is powerless as she is brought before Voldemort, and her fate lies in the hands of her old friend.**

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The room was shrouded in darkness. The candles that adorned the large fireplace and spluttered uncertainly on the chandelier above did very little to illuminate the gloom. There was a large bay window that looked out onto a garden that was filled with trees, their branches being tossed violently in the wind. The Dark Lord was standing with his back to the window, framed by the tumultuous weather outside and he raised his hand to stop Snape in his tracks before calling to those who were following, "Stop! Just Severus and the girl."

Malfoy and Karkaroff retreated at once, followed quickly by Rosier. Only Bellatrix lingered in the doorway and even though she said nothing at first Snape could clearly sense her displeasure at being so readily dismissed.

"My Lord?" Bellatrix began in a subservient whisper that Snape sensed sent a shudder down Lily's spine as she clung fiercely to him. "Would it not be wise if I were present?" Snape avoided her unstable eyes.

"Leave us, Bella," he hushed and Bellatrix, knowing better than to allow her jealousy to cloud her judgement, bowed lowly before retreating and closing the door behind her. "Now," Voldemort lowered his hood - his face appearing like a death-like mask in the uncertain candlelight, his eyes glowing eerily in darkness like red fire – and with a nod of his head indicated that Snape should approach. As he took a step towards him he felt Lily tense in his arms, too weak to writhe, to fight, to get away like he knew she would if she were able. He had heard her cries of pain from the next room and had been appalled by the way his treacherous heart still went out to her. But Bellatrix was notoriously merciless when it came to torturing their victims – and Lily, as a member of the Order and as a woman, would have been a prey that Bellatrix would found difficult to resist. Snape had always looked on with removed distain but he had found the voice deep inside that was telling him to go to Lily almost impossible to subdue.

Snape stood before Voldemort and lowered Lily carefully to the floor. But as she felt his grip about her loosening Lily seemed to regain some of the presence of mind she had lost when Bellatrix had tortured her, and she tried to cling onto him, to scramble back into his arms as she repeated over and over, "No! Please! No!"

With a great effort Snape pulled himself away, stumbling backwards, his eyes fixed uncomfortably on the way she panted heavily on the floor. But after taking a few moments to catch her breath Lily lifted her head to definitely meet Voldemort's eyes.

"You have done well, Severus," Voldemort exuded softly, taking a step towards Lily. "Lily Potter...welcome!"

"I won't tell you anything!" Lily spoke as though the words were difficult to say and Snape knew what she was feeling as she stared up at the Dark Lord. For he himself had felt it too, on many occasions; a cold, inexorable fear that weighed down on your chest, making it difficult to breathe. But Lily was brave – Snape couldn't help but admire that – and whatever she was feeling she kept well hidden behind a mask of hatred.

"Silence!" Voldemort rarely raised his voice but when he did it became an otherworldly shriek that made the hairs on the back of Snape's neck stand on end. He stooped down, bringing his face closer to Lily's as he said in a hideous whisper, "Foolish girl! Do you not think that if I wanted you to speak I would have left you with Bella?" His lips curled into a hateful sneer at the look of confusion that suddenly swept across Lily's face and she glanced in Snape's direction before stammering, "Wh...what do you want from me?"

Voldemort turned his attention to the window. The rain had begun to pour down, falling heavily against the glass in sheets. "Lily Evans...a vivacious and attractive young witch...a talented pupil whilst at Hogwarts...keen-witted and determined in her work for the Order of the Phoenix..." Voldemort turned and Snape's stomach turned as he saw the way his blood-red gaze hungrily searched her face. "You have been of interest for some time." Voldemort paused and a look of displeasure twisted his features. "Although you are not of pure blood you're unquestionable passion and skill is enough for me to make certain...exceptions..."

"I will never join you!" Lily suddenly interrupted, realisation finally dawning on her. Snape inwardly recoiled at the quickness of her words and the venom with which she had said them. She may be brave, Snape thought to himself, but she is rash. "I'd die before becoming a Deatheater!"

"Ahhh..." Voldemort exhaled softly. "It never fails to surprise me how those I make this offer to so readily dismiss it. Your defiance is only to be expected and yet..." Voldemort took a step towards her and Snape saw that he was cradling his wand menacingly in his hand. "...I'll think you'll find how quickly you will change your mind. _Crucio!"_

Lily had not been expecting it and the force of the curse threw her back against the floor, the pain paralysing her. Snape looked on, powerless, as he watched her body convulse - her mouth open in a frozen scream that never left her. Eventually the power of the curse subsided and she twisted her body so that she laying in a position where she could still look up into Voldemort's face.

"Bring her to her feet!" Voldemort instructed and Snape could do nothing but comply, gripping Lily tightly about the waist as he attempted to help her. But she was too weak to be able to stand unaided and after swaying unsteadily Lily fell backwards, supported only by the weight of Snape's chest against her back. "You insolent, imprudent witch! Do you not see that I hold your life in my hands?"

Voldemort's words made Snape's stomach swim and he felt faint at the prospect that was before him; that the Dark Lord could kill Lily now; that she would die in his arms.

"I'm not afraid to die!" Lily cried.

"But your loved ones? Those close to you?" Voldemort queried. "How swiftly would your resolve crumble if you were forced to watch those dear to you die before your eyes?"

Lily gave a hollow laugh. "There is nothing you can threaten me with!"

"You have no choice! Join me or die!"

Lily spat in Voldemort's face and before Snape had time to register what was happening Voldemort had drew back his hand and struck her hard across the face. She crashed to the floor, splitting her lip and sending blood trickling down her chin.

"Get her out of my sight!" Voldemort hissed and Snape very quickly lifted her up from underneath her arms and pulled her to her feet. "Dispose of her!"

"M...my Lord?" Snape questioned despite himself.

"She is of no further use to me. Take her to the back room and kill her." There must have been something about Snape's expression that betrayed him for Voldemort quickly warned, "Do not resist in this, Severus. Kill her."

Snape left the room before the temptation to defy Voldemort became overwhelming and he dragged Lily along the hallway and towards a small room at the back of the house. It had served as a study once and was lined with bookshelves with a low, two-seater sofa pushed against one wall. The only light came from the street lamp outside, casting everything in an artificial, orange glow. Snape thrust Lily down on the sofa before turning to lock the heavy door with a flick of his wand. He went over to the window and rested his hands on the glass - taking deep, even breaths to gather his thoughts – when he heard Lily say, "What are you waiting for?" Snape turned with great reluctance to see Lily watching him, her eyes mutinous as she continued, "Do it!"

"Quiet!" Snape snapped as he began to pace the room, his mind quickly working as he considered how long he had before Voldemort would expect him to return and tell him the deed was done. "I need to think..." He stared out of the window, desperately considering what would happen if he turned his back on this all now and helped Lily to escape. How far would he get before they found him? What would they do to him then? What sort of life would be waiting for him on the other side; a life where Lily despised him, constantly reminded him of his betrayal, shunned him for the life he had once led? Could he fight for a cause that he hardly knew he believed in, alongside those who had ridiculed him, victimised him? Would he be forced to witness James and Lily's happiness whilst he himself felt nothing but derision and despair? He had fought so long to be free from his past, to suppress the feelings of longing and regret that had made him so weak and unhappy. And in Voldemort's regime he had found a way of excelling, of proving his worth, of defining himself, of finally claiming what was rightfully his. Doubt would not deter him. His confusion would pass and as he turned back round to face Lily, his decision made, he realised what little choice he really had.

Snape approached her calmly and attempted with great difficulty to control himself, to quell the frenzy that had possessed him earlier during his attack on the Leaky Cauldron. That was not how it should be, Snape thought to himself, remembering with regret his treatment of Lily and of the casual, callous way he had taken Mary's life. Yet he had been overcome with unexpected emotions, blinded by a passionate hatred he had never experienced, consumed by a fear that hesitation brings, spurred on by the shame that Lily's eyes inspired and he had lost control.

"Snape?" Lily's voice was an unwelcome intrusion on his thoughts and he watched as she tried, and failed, to desperately scramble to her feet. But he could not allow her pleas to reach him. "Are you going to kill me?"

Still her voice was a challenge, as though this alone would be enough to prevent the inevitable, but Snape watched as the final remnants of brave resolution evaporated from her as he condemned her with one word. "Yes."

"No!" Lily cried, attempting and failing to stand once more, scrambling away from him across the sofa as he reached out towards her. "You...you can't! You won't!"

Snape grasped her firmly and pulled her towards him and she fell limply against him, the violent attacks of the Cruciatus finally taking their toll on her body, rendering her powerless. Lily whimpered yet despite her pain she managed to resist him, trying to pull herself from out of his arms. "Let me go!"

"I can't," Snape whispered, the sudden change in his tone causing Lily to stop twisting and to turn to face him. She was so close, so weak, so fragile. He could feel her heart thudding in her chest and could see the fear that was winning the battle and causing tears to spring into her eyes. Snape lowered his hand and slowly withdrew his wand which caused her to tremble against him. He felt her hands snake up his chest and grasp his robes, pulling them tightly as she pleaded, "Please Severus...please don't do this..."

"I...I have to," Snape replied, feeling himself removing her hands from him as though as he was outside himself, as though he wasn't really there. "There is no other way...I have no choice..." Lily looked up at him, her eyes filled with tears and as he looked into them he felt the familiar swimming sensation he felt when delving into someone's mind. But this wasn't what he had intended – he couldn't control it – and before he could stop himself Snape found himself reliving Lily's most intimate moments as they flashed before her eyes. He saw Lily as a small child - younger than when he had first known her - sitting in the garden and playing, the memory indistinct and unformed. The scene shifted and he saw her walking with her father, holding his hand, disappearing over the crest of a hill. He saw Hogwarts outlined proudly against a sunlit sky. And then there was a wintry graveyard, Lily's mother in a black hat which gave way to a bedroom at the top of the house. The covers were warm and the fairy lights twinkled across the street but then all was quickly lost in a tangle of limbs and hot, shuddering breath. He saw her wedding day with an acute pang of jealousy. He saw James scoop her up and carry her across the threshold of their new home. He saw a kitchen crowded with the faces of friends as a red-haired witch who was heavily pregnant served up a hearty meal.

Then something strange happened. Although the images faded Snape was not yet detached from Lily's mind. A strange darkness fell permeated only by the thud of Lily's heart beat. But then gradually the darkness subsided, penetrated by a soft, golden glow. The thud grew quieter and Snape began to hear another sound, another heart beat, pulsing softly beneath. It was so faint, so delicate, but it was there; another life that Snape would be taking without Lily knowing of its existence.

He pulled away, his mind relinquishing its claim on Lily's as he turned to face the window once more. As Snape looked out into the rain he could discern in the shadows across the street the sudden appearance of figures, and he realised with a great wave of relief that the Order had come for her.

"Come on," Snape suddenly acted, gripping Lily's hands and trying in vain to make her come with him. "I'm not going to hurt you." Lily was uncertain and yet she complied, understanding perhaps that her options were limited. He directed her over to the window and pointing over to where Sirius, James, Marlene McKinnon and Alastor Moody were running towards the house he said, "They've come for you!"

"They'll be killed!" Lily shrieked, losing control of her sense as she beat her fists against Snape's chest. "You're going to tell your master and then they'll all be killed!"

"No!" Snape hissed, grabbing hold of her hands. "I'm going to help you!" There was a sound of a door banging open from somewhere else in the house that caused Lily to jump and Snape instructed Lily "Wait here" before opening leaving the room and making his way to the front door. As he peered through the glass he could see Sirius and McKinnon duelling the Carrows as James and Moody made their way down the path. Snape quickly returned to the room and helped Lily to stumble out into the hallway.

"When they've got you just get away! Go with Potter and apparate as soon as you can!" He positioned Lily so she was supported against the wall before, after pressing his wand to the lock and mumbling a complicated incantation, the door clicked open.

"But why?" Lily called breathlessly behind him as he began to climb the stairs. "Why all this and then you help me? I don't understand..."

Yet before Snape could answer he heard the rush of footsteps on the front steps and he disappeared onto the landing above. He watched, concealed in the shadows, as James burst in followed closely by Moody who began firing curses at Rosier and Malfoy who had suddenly appeared on the floor below.

"Lily! Lily thank god!" James cried, gathering Lily into his arms and squeezing her tight. He covered her face and her hair with kisses and Snape knew that it was torturous to watch but found that he could not look away. "Are you alright?"

"Yes!" Lily replied breathlessly.

Snape then reappeared, aiming a hex at Sirius who had just rushed through the door. It narrowly missed him but James had seen him emerging from the shadows and with an inarticulate cry had aimed his wand at him.

"No!" Lily cried, grabbing her husband's wrist just in time to send the curse ricocheting round the room. "Please James, just get me out of here!"

"Take her home!" Snape heard Sirius say, his eyes fixing on Snape at the top of the stairs. "We can handle this!" And he watched as James looped his arm about Lily's waist and guided her and his unborn child out into the night.

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I hope you all enjoyed that. Please remember to review. Update coming soon :)


	14. Chapter 14

_A/N: Thank you if you are reading this. Stats tell me that I'm receiveing a lot of hits but I would really love some more reviews. They are a writers bread and butter, you see, and even though I am quite willing to upload without them it's always good to know what my readers think._

_Thanks again to the usual people. They should know who they are by now._

_Disclaimer: The wonderful world of Harry Potter was created by J.. We all know this. No need to sue._

**Lily takes Dumbledore's advice and lies low. Far away, a man pays the price for empathy.**

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There was a hiss as the cracked eggs hit the pan, sending a splatter of oil across the hob that looked very much in need of a good clean. Although it was only six o'clock in the morning Lily just couldn't sleep and had jumped up with a wild idea of making everyone breakfast. A rattling snore as she slowly got up told Lily that James wasn't ready to be awake just yet and she pulled the dressing gown Sirius had leant her tightly around herself before quietly leaving the room.

Sirius' place was less audacious than would have been expected with its open planned living area and shag-pile rugs. It was messy, of course, and a lot of the debris that littered the living room that Lily had to pick her way through was reminiscent of the impulsive seventeen year old Sirius had been when he had bought the place. There were stacks of magazines, both Wizarding and Muggle. Clothes were strewn everywhere. But it had been kind of Sirius to allow her and James to stay for a while until, as Dumbledore had put it, "Things died down."

The frying pan began to smoke and Lily looked down to see that the eggs she had been attempting to fry were now welded to the pan. The acrid smell of smoke told her the toast was burning and she pulled out the grill pan, tipping the charred bread and a whole lot of crumbs onto the side, before opening the kitchen window and flinging it out for the birds.

"Do I smell breakfast?" a lazy voice asked and Lily turned to see a very bleary-eyed Sirius appearing from his bedroom, rubbing his face vigorously with his hands.

"Sort of," Lily replied, indicating her failed attempts with a wave of her hand.

Sirius gave a derisive snort of laughter and rooted around the floor for something to cover his naked torso. Having given it an experimental sniff he decided on a brown jumper and, pulling it over his head, Sirius sat down at the kitchen table and said with a smile, "Well if you will insist on doing things the Muggle way, Evans..."

"Potter!" Lily corrected before making them both a cup of tea. After loading his with sugar and taking a scalding sip Sirius asked, "Trouble sleeping?"

She could deny it, Lily considered. But what would be the use in that? As short-sighted as Sirius was sometimes he would not believe her if she lied. But he was not exactly known for being the best of listeners. In fact, Lily had to think hard to remember the last time they had a proper conversation at all.

Finally, Lily shook her head and Sirius sighed. "There wasn't much we could do when we got there. We were outnumbered and what with Vodemort..."

"It doesn't matter," Lily reassured him, watching the steam as it rose from the top of her cup. "You did all that you could."

Although Sirius nodded he appeared unconvinced. He leant across the table, his eyes capturing hers with a determined intensity, before he began, "I know James is beating himself up about it. He keeps saying how he should have known, how he should have put his foot down and not let you go."

Lily laughed a little mirthlessly. "That wouldn't have made any difference. I wouldn't have listened."

Sirius' lips pulled into an appreciative smile as he replied, "No, I don't suppose you would have."

"Besides, there was no way to know. No one could have foreseen what would happen?"

"Didn't you have any idea?" Sirius quizzed, clearly ignoring James' heated outburst at the last gathering of the Order when he had instructed everyone "to stop pestering my wife!"

Once again Lily thought back to the letter she had received from Mary. "No...how could I have known?" She remembered how altered Mary had looked from when she had last seen her; so nervous and pale – a shadow of herself – and her hands tightened around the mug she was gripping as she remembered the moment Snape had entered the room. Her chest became tight, her breathing ragged, as Lily thought back to the moment Snape had murdered Mary and she had fallen unconscious to the floor. After that everything was a jumbled mess, each memory slipping further away the more she tried to grasp at them. Dumbledore had encouraged her to take time, that this was only what was to be expected, that this was her brain's way of protecting itself after her terrible ordeal. And every day there were things that came floating back to her; the laughter of Bellatrix, the stare of Voldemort, the taste of blood in her mouth. There was the feeling of being lifted up into someone's arms, of someone helping her, saving her but this all became confused – shot through with memory of pain. She struggled to stop her hands from trembling and pointedly avoided Sirius' eyes as she said, "I don't really want to think about it just now..."

Very slowly, Lily looked up at Sirius beneath her hair and Sirius nodded before tipping his chair back on its hind legs and whistling a low tune under his breath. He looked up, regarding the polystyrene tiles of the ceiling briefly, before turning back to Lily and asking with a characteristically disarming smile, "So what are they saying about me then, in the Order? That I've gone off my rocker since my brother died?"

Although she was pleased that she was no longer the object of scrutiny, Lily was stunned by Sirius' sudden change of subject. Then again, she thought to herself, this was just like Sirius; to be sullen and withdrawn for days on end but then to turn around and with a shrug of the shoulders to dismiss the worry he had caused. "Something like that," Lily replied with a wry smile.

Sirius gave a sharp bark of laughter before setting the four legs of his chair back down firmly on the floor and, after an exasperated sigh, said with a shrug, "There was nothing I could tell them at the Ministry that they didn't already know. I hadn't seen my brother for years. What did they expect me to know?" It didn't seem like he was looking for Lily to answer this question and so she remained silent as he continued, talking as though she wasn't even there, "Sometimes I wonder what might have happened if I hadn't have left home. Maybe things might have turned out differently for him? He wasn't a complete goner then..."

"But you didn't have a choice really..." Lily broached tentatively.

"Still..." Sirius' voice trailed off as he became lost in the thoughts of what might have been. "Who knows what would have happened?"

"Do you regret it then?" Lily asked impulsively, without thinking, eager to find a validation to her own feelings of regret in Sirius' answer.

After considering the question for a moment a slight smile pulled at the corners of his mouth, and he replied in a low voice, "There's a lot of things I regret Lily. But what can I do?"

They sat a while in silence. Sirius turned his eyes to the smeary window through which the sky was gradually giving way to a doubtful grey. A few birds had alighted on the window box outside and were now pecking at the burnt toast. All the while Lily watched Sirius' face carefully as he no doubt became preoccupied with all the things that had happened that he had felt powerless to change. Lily knew that feeling well; understanding completely the helplessness that always came with hindsight. She rose to her feet and stood beside him and, seized by an unexpected maternal desire to comfort him, Lily placed her hand on his shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. This seemed to draw Sirius out of his reverie and in a typically brash gesture he turned his head and planted a firm kiss on the back of Lily's hand.

"Now..." Lily said with a smile, returning to the hob and looking around for the carton of eggs. "How about some breakfast?"

Finally Lily managed to fry the eggs, toast the bread and cook the bacon. Sirius made them both another cup of tea and greedily spread his toast with a generous layer of thick, creamy butter that dribbled down to his chin when he bit into it. It gave Lily great pleasure to see him enjoy it so much and after scrapping the last bits of egg yolk from his plate he leant back and announced, "Well I've got to give it to. You can cook."

Lily placed the empty plates in the sink and Sirius set them to wash with a lazy flick of the wand. "That was hardly gourmet," she joked.

"Still," Sirius said, rubbing his stomach appreciatively. "The way to a man's heart is through his stomach."

"You could do with a woman round here," Lily teased, indicating the general mess with a wave of her hand. "Seeming as you're incapable of looking after yourself."

"Ah ha!" Sirius said. "That's where you're a wrong! If I had a woman round here she'd clean, get rid of my things, put potpourri everywhere, insist I eat brown bread..." He began to laugh as he saw Lily's predictable frown that told him she was unimpressed.

"That's hardly a modern attitude, is it?" Lily complained. "Anyone would think you didn't want to attract a woman."

"Now now," Sirius begun with a knowing smile. "We both know that if I wanted to attract a woman it wouldn't exactly be difficult."

"Of course, how could I forget? You're Sirius Black." Sirius laughed sharply. "Come on you're not telling me you don't get...lonely?"

"Sometimes," Sirius confessed with characteristic candour. He smiled warmly. "When you and James got married it sort of made me think...that maybe I was missing something. Then again...how could I ever compete with the golden couple?"

"What's that?" a very befuddled James asked as he entered the room. He was rubbing his goose pimpled arms furiously and his hair stuck up at the back where he had slept on it. He flung himself down on the sofa and, pulling the crocheted throw over him and wrapping it around him. "Bloody freezing here, Padfoot!"

Lily got up from the table and moved over to where James was reclining, sitting down next to him and curling her body against his. He turned and smoothing back her hair gave her a kiss on the forehead.

After grimacing and pulling faces as though he was going to be sick, Sirius stood up. "I'm going back to bed," he announced. "Rather that than watch you two fawn over one another."

"What were you two talking about?" James asked although Lily wasn't really listening as she was too busy watching the gap as Sirius opened his bedroom door. She hadn't realised that there was someone asleep in his bed; a leg was dangling over the side, a sandy head lay obscured amongst the pillows and a shirt lay disregarded on the floor. Sirius looked up and saw that Lily was watching and he gave an insinuating wink before closing the door.

"Nothing," Lily said, barely containing her smile as she snuggled into her husband's arms. "Nothing at all."

Miles away in a house by the sea a man lay twisted in agony on the floor. As another vicious curse tore through his body he refused to cry out and instead fixed his eyes out the window. There was hardly any garden to speak of; the grass spread out for only a matter of metres before the ground dropped away completely to form the chalky cliffs below. Although he could not see it he imagined the sea stretching out away from him, towards the horizon where sky and sea became indistinct. These thoughts swept him away and out of his body, and he felt barely there as he heard a hissing voice say, "You will not fail me again."

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